


Wings on Tailored Suits

by dattumblrgal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, M/M, Manhattan, Non-Linear Narrative, Physical Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, and i dont want anyone to feel anxious/uncomfortable while reading, but it does require a warning bc no matter how small some ppl might be triggered, please read the notes about the abuse because its not very severe, really friends-lovers-enemies-friends-lovers, to some degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dattumblrgal/pseuds/dattumblrgal
Summary: Manhattan sometimes feels like a dreamt up place with its shining skyscrapers and rooftop bars. In the place that can take you to wonderland and hell simultaneously, Harry experiences love, frienship and other struggles that come with the brink of adulthood. But his world is different because there's an American Express Centurion Card in his wallet, the figurative silver spoon in his mouth and traces of white powder under nearly everyone's nose. That's Manhattan for him all thanks to his name.An AU about finding yourself in the mids of an elitist society controlled by money, power and lies. All the conditions apply even when you're just a teenager.





	Wings on Tailored Suits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rapunzarry (analugonc)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/analugonc/gifts).



> Dear rapunzarry, I chose to use your enemies to lovers prompt and this came out. I'm really sorry if it's not what you imagined but I hope you'll enjoy reading it either way.
> 
> I have to give all the love to my amazing beta Sarai, because without her this fic wouldn't have been wished. Thank you so so so so much babe. <3
> 
> About the warnings - There is some abuse and emotional manipulation, but I focused mainly on emotions around it and not the acts itself. I've been told that it isn't triggering for people who had some experience with it but you have to judge for yourself and read only whatever you're comfortable with.
> 
> About the non-linear narrative - All the parts that aren't set in the main timeline start with a line of dialogue.

                “Please, don’t leave me. I won’t do it again, I promise baby. Just… I need you. You’re upset with me, I know. Please… I love you,” Harry whimpers. Tears are clouding his vision, making everything in the dark room seem like a kaleidoscope of blacks and dark blues. He feels dull pain throbbing through his body, through his chest, head, face and he isn’t certain about its source. His skin is burning and the desperation that flows through his veins is setting his body on fire.

            “I don’t believe you.”

            The harshness of the voice coming from the closed door of the dark room wracks out a sob out of Harry.

            “You have to,” Harry breathes out and lifts his ass off the pool table he was leaning against, walking towards him in the dark. He tries to hold his cheek but all he gets is a firm hand wrapped around his wrist, so familiar his heart jumps in his chest.

            “Do you fucking swear you’re mine?”

            Harry nods vigorously.

            The door echoes with a knock and a voice follows it. “Harry, are you okay? Lara said she saw you come in here.”

            Harry’s heart starts pounding as if it was trying to escape his ribcage. The grip on his wrist only tightens.

°°°°°

            Harry Styles fucking loves his life. He’d be a fool to complain about any of it. He’s on top of the world, has been since the minute he was born. Some of his friends tend to bitch about things but he’s not one of those people. _‘My mom wants to me to go to the debutante ball this year, ugh, so annoying.’ ‘Why the fuck do I even have to write the letter when daddy already said I’d be accepted anyway?’ ‘I didn’t get into Rihanna’s party this weekend, whatever, she’s a flop anyway.’_. Harry’s mom always says it’s because they weren’t born into their status, they gained it when it was already too late for them to learn how to behave in the society they’re ‘infiltrating’. It might be the case but Harry doesn’t think snorting coke off someone’s tits tells anything about when someone’s family gained their wealth.

            Harry loves his life and people fucking adore him. At the magical age of eighteen, there’s not much more he could ask for. Materialistic things mean fuck all in his circle. John Davis got a Bentley for his Sweet Sixteen and his girlfriend still sucked Harry’s dick at the birthday party. That’s where Harry’s mom is wrong. She thinks the ‘new money’ families gain their respect and status through their money and possessions. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for who you are.

            And isn’t that the question. _Who are you?_ they ask you at school when you’re applying for colleges. _Who are you?_ they ask you when you’re at your first party. _Who are you?_ they always ask you, always, always, always. But do you know the answer?

            Harry’s pretty pleased with himself since at the magical age of eighteen, he has three of those. _Hi, I’m Harry_ is for classmates and potential friends. Most of them know who he is anyways, the need to throw out his family name just isn’t there. He’s a normal teenager, a good-looking guy they might want to fuck, their classmate that will never do the math homework and will ask for it with a sweet smile and a flip of his hair. _Nice to meet you, I’m Harry Styles_ is for when people should be reminded who Harry actually is – still a teenager with a sweet smile but also an American Express Centurion Card in his wallet and his name on the guestlists of all important events in New York City and Los Angeles. But his most used answer is _Pleasure. Harry Edward Styles._ That’s when he’s the heir of an empire, the Golden Boy of Manhattan and the fucking king of St. Augustine’s Academy. A single look or a smirk gets him whatever the hell he wants and nothing is impossible. It’s his favourite.

            He’s Harry Edward Styles as he walks through the school gate, a wide smile on his face as some people already say their hellos. Girls twirl their hair and bite their lips, freshmen stare at him with wide eyes and whisper because this is the first time they see him not in a scandalous photo from Page Six. And he loves it. He would bathe in this feeling every evening, in the confidence it brings him. Sometimes it tends to be fleeting and Harry hates it, has the urge to rip out his hair and scream _‘tell me what’s wrong with me, why aren’t you looking at me?’_ but still, it’s gone in a few seconds and Harry’s smile is back on his face, lighting up rooms and making knees go weak.

            In the courtyard, Lara, Peyton and Chris are already sitting at their usual table. Harry joins them with a smile that’s more just Harry, without the family name and the reputation. It’s just him, with his best friends that he knows won’t stab him in the back the second they get the chance.

            “Hello, hello. Good morning, my fellow seniors. How are we feeling?” Harry sing-songs and drums his fingers on the thin metal of the table.

            “I’ve never seen you this excited at 8AM. Are you high already?” Peyton looks at him with suspicion, her eyes squinted into tiny slits.

            “No, sweetheart. Coke and all that other stuff is for over-excited freshmen, exhausted sophomores and ambitious juniors. And seniors that have no future,” Harry reaches across the table for Lara’s coffee, throwing her his winning smile when she scoffs at him. “I will have you know that I haven’t had a single hit of anything since June. I’m into that healthy living now. Smoothies and kale chips. It’s not that disgusting after you get used to it, I think your taste buds just commit suicide. Besides, my ass looks amazing.”

            Harry looks at his friends around the table and all of them are staring at him as if he was crazy. Instead of commenting on his new lifestyle some more, he shrugs and takes a long sip of Lara’s coffee. After it travels down his throat he looks at it with mild disgust.

            “Who even drinks coffee that sweet?” he murmurs as he gives the coffee back.

            “Do you realize you reek of Tom Ford and _cigarettes_?” Chris asks from Harry’s left.

            “Yeah, that one,” Harry winces. “Too hard, man. I can’t completely give up everything overnight. But! I’m working on it.”

            “Well, I’m curious to see how long you’ll stay sober tonight when Bret runs around with his baggies,” Chris scoff but Harry just ignores him and turns his face towards the morning sun, enjoying the September rays of warm sunshine. People around him chat about all kinds of things and after a few moments, Harry finds the sounds as calming as classical music and for a few seconds, he feels like falling asleep. His moment of serenity is unfortunately interrupted a short while later with a voice saying “Hi, babe.”.

            Harry opens one eye and looks at the scenery in front of him with a scowl. Great, just the person he needed to see on the first day of school, even before the classes start. He kisses Lara’s cheek, ignoring Harry’s glaring, saying hi to Peyton and Chris before he finally looks at Harry.

            “Harry, hi. Haven’t seen you in ages,” he smiles.

            “Yeah, it was better that way,” Harry snaps with a tooth-rottingly sweet fake smile.

            “Oh, I forgot. You hate me now. My bad,” he chuckles as if he just said a dad joke. “Well, I’ll be on my way. See you in class everyone. Not you though, Harry. I’ll make sure to be wearing my invisibility cloak. Bye, guys.”

            He leaves with a wave and a chorus of byes from everyone around the table except for Harry.

            “God, he’s insufferable,” Harry sighs. “I don’t understand why you all still talk to him.”

            Lara and Peyton share a look, their eyebrows raised and start laughing.

            “What’s so funny about this?” Harry asks, more than annoyed now. His entire morning is ruined. First, _he_ had to come to _their_ table, kiss _Harry’s_ friend’s cheek and make fun of Harry. Not to mention he looked like he just stepped off a fucking runaway. Again. And now his supposed best friends are making fun of Harry as well.

            “I just don’t understand the beef you have with Zayn,” Lara laughs and takes a sip of her disgusting coffee.

            “You- you don’t understand?” Harry blinks multiple times in quick succession. “He’s the actual spawn of Satan. And I don’t play with demons. What’s there not to get?”

            “Harry, you just got your feelings hurt when you were sixteen. Get over it, it’s been too long. You used to be friends, stop treating him as if he killed your cat or something,” Lara tries to reason with him with absolute bullshit. Harry shakes his head in disbelief.

            “Lara, those are rumours. Ru-mours. R-u-m-o-u-r-s. Shit people made up. Do you want me to get the dictionary or?”

            Lara gives him an unimpressed look. “There was a video of you with his cock down your throat, Harry.”

            “It wasn’t me.”

            “You were wearing the white Gucci suit with black flowers and pictures of you in that can be easily found on the internet. Your mom also has one on the wall in her office.”

            “It wasn’t custom made. Could’ve been anyone. It’s not my fault Zayn is a whore who doesn’t care where his cock ends up.”

            Chris laughs next to him. Lara and Peyton are giving him their Harry-stop-fucking-lying looks.

            “What?” Harry asks and throws his hands in the air.

            “It’s been years, babe. Get over it, he wasn’t behind it,” Peyton says and gets up from the table, leaving without waiting for Harry to defend his virtue.

            “I’ve got nothing to get over!” Harry yells after her. “We never even touched!”

            “Harry, denial isn’t healthy. We all remember. Go to class and don’t start distracting Miss Dern with your inappropriate stories from Barcelona,” Lara’s already standing up, holding the Styrofoam coffee cup in her hand.

            “I would never do such thing. Barbara loves my stories and asks for them,” Harry grins at Lara.

            She smiles and shakes her head. “You’re really something, Haz.”

            Harry turns to Chris, who’s quite occupied with his phone. “So, it’s just you and me now. Give me the manly gossip.”

            “While you were trying to catch STDs in Europe, Manhattan literally sat still. But now that everyone’s back, I’ve got good news for you. The start of the year party is being thrown by Isabelle Vanderbilt, since you’re annoying and couldn’t throw one like your sister, the better Styles sibling, did when she was a senior here. And that’s it,” Chris says it all without lifting his eyes off the screen of his phone. Harry would bet that at least ten texts left his phone in that time.

            “Really? Nothing else?”

            “What did you expect, Harry? Upper East Side and basically all of Manhattan is boring during summer. If I didn’t have to stay here and pretend like I’m learning something for college, I wouldn’t be here. Everyone fucks off to the Hamptons or an island.”

            Harry sits there, watching Chris’ fingers move at very high speed over his phone screen absentmindedly. It suddenly hits him that this is the last time they’ll ever do this – sit in the courtyard of St. Augustine’s and gossip about the summer. They’re seniors, at the threshold of adulthood, ready to pack their stuff up and go to college, party even more than they did during high school but also actually fit some studying into the schedule tightly fitted with alcohol, drugs and meaningless hook-ups. Harry has been dreaming about it since he was fourteen and now, when he can almost reach out and touch the reality of it, he’s hit with a tsunami wave of nostalgia.

            “You know I love you, Christopher? You’re my very, very best friend and I love you,” Harry says because he just has to. Looking back at the memories of his previous high school years, Chris was usually right there by Harry’s side when they got up to all kinds of shit. They did their first lines of coke together, lost their virginity in the same week and nearly got arrested in Mexico during spring break in their freshman year. Silly things that everyone around them experienced to some extent. That’s the reality of their teenage years and although in hindsight it sometimes sounds like they had very unhappy and fucked up formative years, Harry’s quite relieved he’s already done it all when his shenanigans and coke under his nose could be put down to his stupid teenage hormones and lack of wisdom.

            A worried question about Harry’s sanity clearly flashes on Chris’ face but he says ‘I love you too’ into Harry’s shoulder after Harry attacks him with one of his octopus hug nevertheless. And it’s not perfect but it’s enough for Harry. In his world, friends that will do as little as hold his hair while he throws up margaritas without taking pics and sending it to their whole class, are a blessing. He’s a Styles, there’s an American Express Centurion Card in his wallet and he doesn’t get to choose his friends. He only gets to choose between two simple things with his friendships: loyalty or betrayal.

°°°°°

            “I love you, Harry. You’re so beautiful, babe.”

            Harry lets out a weak ‘ _yeah’_ and lets himself be carried away on the waves of arousal and the fucking adoration he feels right now. He never thought being in love would feel this good. It’s like a fairy-tale and Harry’s scared sometimes that all of it is just a dream. It’s fucking perfect. Needing someone like this and having someone entirely for himself is a new experience, it’s mostly foreign but it doesn’t bring Harry any fear. It feels right even.

            “You’re mine, right, Harry? All mine and so fucking beautiful.”

            “’m yours,” Harry gasps out.

            The fingers on his hip tighten so much they will certainly leave bruises. Harry bites his bottom lip to keep down a moan.

°°°°°

            Harry Styles never turns down a party, ever. Everyone knows it and everyone takes advantage of it. Even though he’s made a very adult decision by staying away from drugs, Harry isn’t going to give up partying anytime soon. He loves everything about parties. Big masses of bodies moving together to the same tunes, the anonymity nearly addicting. Small talk with people, random hook ups and the sense of never-ending possibilities. Walking around a strange space with a clouded mind is like a second nature to Harry by now. He’s just Harry then, with a bright smile that shines in the blacklight and sly hands that he can never keep to himself. His youth is in full swing and he doesn’t have to care about anything important. Nothing matters when he’s hidden under the veil of night and neon lights.

            He doesn’t hate his mom’s type of parties either. Dressed up in a tailored suit with his hair tamed and his best smile charming old ladies in Chanel suits. In a tornado of regal flower centrepieces and live piano music, Harry is at his peak Harry Edward Styles, the heir of an empire, the Golden Boy, the king. He can walk into a room and all eyes will turn to him, all mouths will be whispering his name. Invincible, that’s how he feels when he walks through a room and owns it. Believe it or not, he’s not actually that narcissistic and is a perfect son for his mother and father too. He chats with his mom’s friends and talks primitive business with his dad’s partners. He nods at all the right times and compliments all the right people. What more could a parent wish for?

            Isabelle’s party takes place in her family’s 5th Avenue apartment, as all of her parties do. Harry brings a bottle of tequila to give to Belle, kisses her cheek and leaves her before she tries to flirt with him again. It’s been going on for years and while Harry did take advantage of it when they were freshmen, he’s older and wiser. That happened way back when he was straight, before his gay and bi eras. He isn’t sure where’s he’s at now so he just doesn’t label it. Better that way, for him and his mother’s sanity.

            Quickly into the party Harry realizes he’s in the very tiny minority of people who haven’t gotten their nose close to a mirror and a rolled up hundred-dollar bill. While he was in Europe, he didn’t feel so secluded at parties. Either the Europeans know how to do drugs in private or it really isn’t that big there. It might’ve been also because the parties he frequented weren’t high school parties and yeah, that’s probably it. The people around him in New York are young, still eager to get lost in the stupor of white powder and various pills because it makes them feel something. It’s quite depressingly funny to realize that all of it is a lie.

            Harry spends most of the party sitting in an armchair by the window with a bottle of Scotch, watching his friends and classmates dance and make-out with people they glare at in the school corridors. With their eyes blown and their cognizance slipping away, they don’t give a fuck about anything because the memories of that night will be blurry or completely forgotten. A small wistful smile climbs onto Harry’s lips then as he sits there like an old man looking at kids generations younger than him. It’s a cliché but his summer in Europe truly did change him a bit. Surely, it didn’t make him smarter or any better at French but at least his nose isn’t itchy and he won’t wake up with a sore ass and a classmate he hates in his bed.

            The want to jump around to shitty club music and grind on someone has completely left him for the night, which honestly hasn’t happened to him ever before. Well, it sort of has but he used to deal with it by taking some really good E and giving or receiving a blowjob in the bathroom. That was his recipe for dancing all night long without crashing or getting tired. This time, he decides to quietly leave without saying goodbye to anyone.

            For the first time ever, Harry isn’t leaving a party stumbling with someone kissing his neck. He consciously calls for a car and makes it up the stairs to his room without falling on his face. Getting undressed, taking a shower and going to bed after a party is another first for Harry. At nearly 2 o’clock in the morning, he lies in his bed and watches the twinkle of New York’s insomnia. He finally takes the first proper breath since the morning and that’s when he breaks down. A sob escapes his lips and a tear travels down the bridge of his nose, another hitting the back of his hand that’s beside his face on the pillow. He doesn’t think or maybe thinks too hard, his neurons working their best to try and forget the night. The hollowness Harry never felt before as he watched everyone around him get fucked out of their minds, riding the high together like a hive of moving bodies and fleeting kisses. How no one really talked to him once he refused to do a line the third time, abandoning him for other people whose blown out eyes were already searching for another hit. And how he’s alone now, in a big room lying in his king-sized bed with suitcases still lying unpacked on the floor.

            He wishes he was away, far enough from Manhattan that everyone would just forget Harry Edward Styles for good. Maybe he’d be a fleeting thought or a jagged memory of a boy with a bright smile they once knew. The heir, the Golden Boy, the king just wouldn’t exist anymore. There would be just Harry, living in an old apartment on a narrow street in Rome, a space he’d shares with his lover and he would be happy. The smiles would be genuine and never screaming for attention. He’d be just a boy, a person without any additional dreamt up version of him in people’s minds. In his own mind too.

            The void in his chest, the fucking gaping hole in him can’t be filled and Harry knows it. He can keep on dreaming of running away and living a different life – one he could almost reach out for and touch this summer, but it’s hopeless. Once the sun comes up he has to get up, put a smile on his face and be Harry Edward Styles again. In the asylum of his room, nothing is stopping him from fantasizing and crying into his pillow all night. The second he leaves it though, he must flip a switch and be the many versions of himself people love. Different one for his mom, for his friends, for strangers in tailored suits.

            Harry closes his eyes, forcefully and resolutely. Sleep is a better alternative to this. But now he knows that drugs are even a better one. The party opened his eyes, woke him up from his idealistic slumber. A few hours before he nearly felt amused by how his peers chose to cloud their minds with neat lines of coke and pills slipped into their mouths with a different tongue. He understands it now. You can’t survive in this place without them. Kids like him snort coke and try every single drug their dealer says is good. Adults take sleeping pills and antidepressants. They do it to fill to void in their chests, to feel something in the emptiness of their superficial world. Maybe he’ll get to have the opportunity to flush his coke down the toilet again when high school ends and he leaves New York, hopefully for good. But for now, in order to keep his sanity in the polished penthouses and mansions, he has to do what everyone’s doing. To fit in, to keep up, to pull through.

°°°°°

            “What the fuck did you think you were doing tonight?”

            Harry blinks and his mouth goes slack. “What?”

            “You were acting like a whore out there. Do you realize how you made me look, Harry?”

            “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say right now,” Harry says quietly, his heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. He’s too drunk to deal with this right now.

            He walks to Harry and grabs his ass, pulling Harry close to himself so their chests and groins are touching. “You’re mine, only mine. You don’t get to talk to other men like that and dance with them like a cheap stripper. Do you understand?”

            “Can you stop being so jealous, please? Baby, I’m sorry. You know that I love you, only you,” Harry whispers, trying to sound confident but his voice is shaking as if he was standing out in the cold without a coat on. He’s so tired after classes and this never-ending party, his mind out of focus and his stomach full of whiskey. He wants to lean his head down and rest his eyes when suddenly, he’s pushing Harry away. Harry throws him a quick look but after seeing a pair of angry eyes, he feels a sharp blow of stinging pain on his cheek. His hand immediately goes to his own face afterwards, touching the already heated skin in disbelief.

            He tries to say something but his mind is blank, completely fucking blank. He breathes heavily as his own hand on his cheek is replaced, a slew of ‘ _I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, you know, right?’_ is whispered in his ear.

            “C’mon, let’s go to bed, yeah? I’ll take care of you, babe. I’ll always love you.”

            Harry doesn’t say a thing. Harry stays silent even when he undresses him and kisses the cheek he has just hit. No words leave his mouth as they fuck and he leaves bruises on Harry’s hips. Harry kisses him back but he never closes his eyes. He doesn’t do so even when they lay under the thin cover, an arm wrapped around Harry’s middle. He doesn’t because when all he can see is darkness, it’s quickly replaced by the sight of dark eyes burning with anger and the sound of skin meeting skin filling his ears.

°°°°°

            Harry’s late. He’s pretty fucking late to his first chemistry class of the year. His professor is the only member of the staff that hates Harry and hell, he probably has enough hatred for all of them. Harry has managed to have straight A’s from all of his subjects except for this one because Mr. Trey always fucking has to give Harry a B. It doesn’t matter if he actually shows up to class and gets As on his tests, the B will be there no matter what. And how fucking funny is that? Harry’s tried _everything_. Money, blackmailing, asking the principal to kick him out. He actually considered writing a formal complaint and it looks like he’s going to have to do it this year because Trey is fucking indestructible. Mr. Trey doesn’t give a fuck about money, didn’t even jump at the $1 million offer Harry shouted out of frustration. Harry had some very weak blackmailing material because the man probably doesn’t even fucking exist outside of the school premises, like a demon possessing a lot. And the principal won’t kick him out because he’s the Vanderbilt’s family friend. So Harry has to contemplate slitting his throat two times a week while measuring shit and pouring it into beakers.

            A smile creeps onto Harry’s face when he sees he isn’t the only latecomer. His smile quickly turns to a frown because it turns out Zayn fucking Malik is walking towards him and he isn’t even powerwalking like Harry is. Why the fuck isn’t he trying to get to that gargoyle’s class as quickly as humanly possible?

            “Why aren’t you running? Do you want that old asshole to rip your throat out?” Harry whisper-yells, trying to catch his breath near the door.

            “Hello to you too, Harry. And wouldn’t that just save you some work with getting rid of me?” Zayn walks slowly to the door and smirks at Harry, who’s trying to slow down his breathing by leaning on the wall by the door. Harry gives him a nasty look and rolls his eyes.

            “Shut up. And open that door before any more time passes or I will be lying in a coffin by tomorrow morning,” Harry snaps.

            “As you wish, your highness,” Zayn grins at him and opens the door to the Classroom of Doom. He walks in first and Harry quickly follows after him. Just to be safe, he doesn’t slap on his best smile but a miserable face instead, as if he was just so, so sorry he’s missed a chunk of a chemistry lesson.

            They’re greeted by a scowl and a dash of orange hair, the lovely combination also known as Mr. Hector Trey. He’s standing in front of the whiteboard, peering at Harry and Zayn from above his glasses.

            “Just the two faces I was missing,” he croaks. “Come join us, gentlemen. There is a station in the back waiting just for you. Oh, isn’t that a pity. I already made the seating arrangement and I forgot about you, Styles. I wanted you right here in the front, but oh well. In the back you go, boys, go, go, go. Every minute that isn’t dedicated to chemistry is wasted! Tick-tock, we don’t have all day!”

            Harry walks to the back as quickly as he can, ignoring the fact that Zayn’s following closely behind him and will be seated next to him for ten months. That’s something he’s going to deal with as the school years progresses. He throws his bag under the table and puts his textbook and laptop on the worktop. His eyes are on the board as Zayn settles down next to him, doing exactly what Harry did, only he opens his laptop straight away and starts doing something on it. After two minutes of biting his tongue, Harry rolls his eyes and leans a bit closer to Zayn.

            “Close that thing if you don’t want him to kick you out or make you take notes on paper all year,” Harry whispers, his eyes still not leaving the front of the classroom. It’s a safety measure for himself. If Zayn starts fucking up, Mr. Trey will keep looking their way and will somehow come up with a way how to yell at Harry for breathing too loudly.

            Harry doesn’t turn his head to look at Zayn but he’d bet he looked at him all confused with his fucking Bambi eyes. But the warning works because Harry hears Zayn’s laptop close just seconds before Mr. Trey starts looking over the classroom.

            For the rest of the lesson that always seems to drag on and on and on, Harry pretends like Zayn isn’t next to him. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that this is the closest they’ve been in almost two years and also ignores the scent of Zayn’s Gucci cologne mixed with cigarettes, resolutely because it’d bring back the memories of how it used to cling to Harry’s bedsheets. Harry fills his head with chemistry and peptide chains, and not pointless nostalgia that would distract him and make him miss something that wasn’t even real.

            After the bell finally rings at last, Harry tries to pack his things up in record speed. Before he manages to sling his bag over his shoulder, the very thing he always tries to avoid catches up with him – talking to Zayn.

            “Harry,” he says and Harry can’t help himself but look at him. “Thanks for the tip about the laptop. I’d really hate to make a bigger hell for myself here than it already is,” Zayn has a small smile on his lips and Harry has to purposely bring his eyes up to meet Zayn’s.

            Harry flashes him his famous grin, artificial and carefully crafted. “You’re welcome.”

            He turns around without waiting for a reply, leaving Zayn and the Classroom of Doom behind him at least for a few days.

            Peyton’s waiting for him outside the classroom and he kisses her cheek as a greeting. They lock their arms and start walking towards the exit.

            “Your favourite class, wasn’t it?” Peyton snickers next him.

            Harry nudges her with his hip. “It only got even better.”

            “Why?”

            “Goes who’s sitting next to me for this school year?”

            “Were you sarcastic or serious?”

            “Zayn’s sitting next to me so try to guess,” Harry scoffs and pushes the door open. They walk down the steps as Peyton starts to laugh.

            “Oh, Harry, this is wonderful!” she exclaims. “You can finally rekindle your previous romance! I didn’t think it’d be in a chemistry class, I imagined more like… a hot make out session at a party or a love declaration under the moonlight, but this is great.”

            Harry groans loudly. “Aren’t you and Lara tired of doing this every time me and him happen to be in the same room?”

            “Nope. You guys broke up for the dumbest reason. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to see that? Especially since you pretend like he’s your mortal enemy or something,” Peyton pulls Harry’s arm, leading him down a street towards a good restaurant, hopefully.

            “We weren’t dating, Petunia,” Harry scoffs.

            “Don’t call me that, Harold. And yes, you were. I know you weren’t _that_ official back then but everyone knew. Just because you didn’t put a label on it, it doesn’t mean you two weren’t in a relationship.”

            Harry sighs but he stays silent. Peyton thinks she’s right but she doesn’t know the whole truth. She doesn’t know about the sleepless nights in their bedrooms or about anything really, she just thinks she knows all about them. There’s so much Harry himself isn’t ready to face. He and Zayn ended with a fucking crash but it went much deeper than what everyone saw on their screens and heard in whispers.

            “We weren’t dating, P,” Harry repeats quietly and secretly hopes the words get lost in the sound of the busy Manhattan street. “We were just… stupid horny sixteen-year-olds. There weren’t any feelings.”

            “Well, if you say so,” Peyton sighs. They’re finally in front of Greenie, their favourite salad place. Harry holds the door open for Peyton and they enter the familiar space. It’s been their spot ever since freshman year. A small white-green restaurant that serves amazing salads in paper boxes that reminds you of McDonalds but taste a million times better. As usual, their orders are already being handed to them the second they walk in thanks to a quick text that was sent before their previous class.

            “Gosh, I almost forgot,” Peyton says around a mouthful of greens when they’re already sitting down. “There’s a party tonight that you will be very interested in.”

            Harry doesn’t look up from his own salad. “Isn’t there always one?”

            “Yeah,” Peyton nods. “But this is a Columbia party. Thrown by some juniors.”

            The word ‘juniors’ forces Harry to lift his gaze and look at Peyton in mild shock. She wiggles her eyebrows and stuffs her mouth with more salad.

            “How?”

            “Well,” Peyton swallows and begins to unscrew her water bottle. “I’m seeing a guy. Cameron. He’s a junior, naturally, a law student. Maybe you remember him? He was a senior when we were freshmen? Cameron Everton?”

            Harry nods. “Yeah, I think I remember him. How long have you guys been dating?”

            “You see,” Peyton sighs and looks out the window. “We aren’t really dating.”

            “Why?”

            “He...” Peyton’s looking down at her hands. Harry frowns because since when does Peyton Rutherford have boy troubles?

            “He doesn’t really wanna be like, properly dating until I graduate,” she finishes, still avoiding looking at Harry. “It’s just… I get it, you know? He’s already twenty-one, he’ll turn twenty-two in a few months. And I’m eighteen. He’d look like a creep or something.”

            “Why are you with him if you’re lurking in the shadows?” Harry questions.

            Peyton finally looks at him and rolls her eyes, obviously trying to make light of the situation. “Because we love each other, duh. I don’t need to show him off in clubs and restaurants on dates to validate our relationship. And you’re the last one to talk. You haven’t been in a relationship in ages. So shut up and be supportive, okay?”

            Harry resits the urge to raise his brows and murmurs a quiet ‘ _Okay’_ instead.

            Peyton launches into a monologue about the dress she got for the party and Harry nods, tells her a few times how amazing she’s going to look. He can’t help but try to search in his memory for anything about Cameron Everton. There was a group of boys, all of them hot and they were more than aware of it. Rich like everyone at St. Augustine’s is, as powerful as eighteen-year-olds in their world can get. All the girls wanted them, boys wanted to be them. But Harry can’t really pinpoint Cameron. Was he the dark-haired guy who fucked Natalie Wilmington in Cicero and everyone laughed at his small cock? Or the blonde one that was in rehab? Guess he’ll see tonight.

            “Oh, fuck, how could I forget,” Peyton exclaims suddenly and grabs Harry’s other hand that isn’t holding a fork. “Sebastian Kingsley is gonna be there too.”

            Harry stops in his tracks and full on stares at Peyton. She lets go off his hand and shrugs with a pleased smirk on her lips. Harry’s lips curve into a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

            Sebastian Kingsley. How does one describe a man as fine as him? He was Harry’s gay awakening, his first male crush and probably the man of his dreams. 6’4”, blond, looks like he just got off a surf in Malibu. It didn’t take many parties until Harry’s crush was consuming him like a big monstrous cloud of boy teenage hormones. When Harry was a freshman, he couldn’t even dream of doing something out it beside jerking off in the shower at night. Sebastian was straight, didn’t really talk to freshmen (unlike his friends who were sleeping with them), usually hung around other seniors and college kids. He was untouchable, as if he was a beautiful mirage Harry saw in school corridors and in dark corners of parties.

            Last year, Harry’s freshman pipe dream came true – Sebastian got a boyfriend. Well, _that_ exactly wasn’t Harry’s dream but the possibility of Sebastian dating a guy was right there and it was real. Since Harry isn’t a homewrecker, he kept his excitement contained and didn’t attempt to hit on Sebastian. And although it has been a few months since Sebastian and his boyfriend broke up, an opportunity for Harry to make a move on his hasn’t presented itself so far. Now is his chance though. Sebastian is single, Harry’s legal and there’s a party fucking tailored for this.

            “Peyton Rutherford, I am getting laid tonight and that’s all thanks to you,” Harry grins.

            Peyton laughs and shakes her head. “Don’s say jump before you actually jump.”

            “I don’t even know what that means but nothing, nothing at all can stop me from having sex with Sebastian Kingsley tonight.”

            “God, Harry, it’s like you’re sixteen again. I love your attitude.”

            “Don’t even start, I used to be a menace,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Now, go on, give me the details about the party that will bring me and the man of my dreams together.”

°°°°°

            “Oh god,” Harry laughs, wiping a tear underneath his eye. “I can’t believe you really did that! Look, I’m crying from laughter, I hate you!”

            “Yeah, we really did. It was… wild. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

            His wide smile matches Harry and Harry’s cheeks honest to god hurt from smiling so much. Harry looks at him, sitting across the table and looking so fucking beautiful. He starts to get lost in his eyes, as he found himself doing so terribly often lately.

            “Harry, I wanted to tell you something,” he says and reaches for Harry’s hands, taking them in his. He runs his thumbs over the backs of Harry’s hands over and over again. Harry’s heart might jump out of his chest it’s beating so hard. It’s perfect. Everything’s fucking perfect and Harry hopes they’re not about to break up because he’d never recover and probably never love again.

            “Shoot,” Harry says with a nervous chuckle. He laughs too, a small pensive laugh staying on his lips afterwards. Harry fears his hands have started shaking.

            “We haven’t been dating for too long but… I wanted to tell you that I love you. I know it’s probably too early but that doesn’t change the way I feel. You’re fucking amazing and you make me a better person. You’re just, I know this is gonna sound cheesy but you’re a fucking angel. You look like one too but that doesn’t matter to me at all. Your beauty is just a perk. You’re an incredible human being. I love you, Harry. I really do.”

            Harry’s breath gets lost someway on the short road between his lungs and nose. His mouth goes slack and _holy fucking shit, did that really just happen?_ The silent gasp is taken over by a smile, bright and fucking joyous. Harry might actually start crying like a stupid rom-com character in the middle of one of Manhattan’s best restaurants.

            “I love you too,” Harry says without hesitation. He’s known it for a while. If he was just a little bit more of a hopeless romantic, he’d say they were a love at first sight. Unfortunately, that’d be a lie since they’ve seen each other many times before they started dating but wouldn’t it make a fabulous fucking story for the grandchildren?

            “You do?” he asks, his eyes all wide in surprise. Harry smiles at that and caresses his hand.

            “Of course I do, don’t be stupid,” Harry says gently.

            “I thought I was being too forward, maybe,” he smiles, looking at their locked hands in the middle of the table. It’s a smile Harry’s learned to love, to adore. “I’m so fucking happy you feel the same way.”

            “Me too, babe,” Harry beams at him and feels his heart, his fucking soul settle in his chest. The overwhelming amount of happiness and love he’s felt ever since they first kissed cannot compete with anything. No one has ever made him feel this way, no one has ever loved him like this. It’s a feeling Harry has only lightly grazed with the tips of his fingers before, never getting a full taste of what it’s like to be loved and love in return. He’s been certainly missing out on something so magical he could never even attempt to put it in words. There’s only heaps of time ahead of them and Harry intends to fill every single second they have together with so much love, they will get sick with it and love even more as a result.

°°°°°

            Harry shapes himself into the best version of himself he possibly could. He’s Harry Edward Styles with a hint of just Harry. He’s an adult, wise with a whiskey in his hand but also a teenager with traces of coke under his nose. He’s nonchalant and confident but also playful and a little slutty. It’s a carefully crafted blend created purely for Sebastian. Another version of Harry that will have to be catalogued and put away for safekeeping at the end of the night until he faces Sebastian again.

            The suit he wears is casual, like he’s not trying too hard to impress. He unbuttons the shirt almost to his navel because after all it’s a party, isn’t it? Harry wouldn’t normally bring the jacket with him to a party if he wanted to get laid but Sebastian is a junior in fucking law school. He mustn’t give a fuck about teenage guys in Louis Vuitton x Supreme hoodies or some shit.

            It’s been a few years since Harry was nervous before a party but now he’s walking around their roof terrace like a lion in a cage, chain-smoking with jittery fingers. He didn’t think he could be phased by a boy here and yet his heart is beating like a drum in a fucking marching band. There’s a cloud of anxiety following him, the same one he last felt when he asked Beatrice Kincaid out in 9th grade. He wasn’t this nervous even when he was about to have sex with a guy for the first time and fuck, he better stop thinking about that one because it was with Zayn fucking Malik and he hates that it was perfect, considering they were both fifteen and had no idea what they what the fuck they were doing.

            He shakes his head to get rid of those imagines, taking his phone out of his pocket and texting Peyton to see where the fuck is she since she was supposed to come pick him up five minutes ago. She texts back just a few seconds later, saying she’s three minutes away, max. Harry sighs in relief and stubs his cigarette out, leaving the stub with the rest in a nearly full ashtray on the half wall. He goes back inside, only then realizing that it’s actually pretty cold outside, considering it’s the beginning of September. As he’s walking down the hallway to his room, his mom walks out of the office. Harry stops, freezing up as a statue.He’s

            She notices him and gives him a big smile, almost identical to Harry’s. “Sweetheart, I haven’t seen you all day. You’re going out?”

            “Yeah, I’m going to a party,” Harry says reluctantly, a tight-lipped smile on his face. His mom walks to him and starts fussing with his hair.

            “What party, angel? A school one?”

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            She hums and looks at Harry contemplatively before scrunching her nose. “You smell like an ashtray, darling.”

            “Sorry, mom,” Harry mumbles.

            Anne just smiles once more, buttons up two buttons on Harry’s shirt and kisses his cheek. “Have a good one, sweetheart.”

            And just like that, she’s gone, the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floor following her exit.

            Harry goes to his room, straight into the en-suite bathroom and puts on his Tom Ford cologne. He considers brushing his teeth but he settles on some mouthwash because with his luck, he would get toothpaste all over his clothes and face, and then he would need to change his clothes and would be even later to the party than he already is.

            As he stares at himself in the mirror, he considers ditching it and not going at all because what if everything turns out shit? What if Sebastian won’t even say hello to him and Harry will embarrass himself in front of dozens of Columbia Law juniors? What if it ends up like the last party he went to and the night will end with him drunk in his bed alone, crying his fucking eyes out? He leans on the counter and stares himself in the eye in the mirror. Is it all worth it? Probably not but Harry realizes he has to try. It’s only September and he’s graduating in June. That’s a lot of time and a lot of parties he will _have to_ attend. The Winter Ball, Prom, so many events he doesn’t even know about yet. He will have to be Harry Edward Styles, in a tailored suit with a winning smile on his face, many times in the next ten months so one more night can’t hurt, right?

            Harry takes a deep breath as he unbuttons his shirt again and ruffles his hair. He can fucking do it and he’s gonna be fucking incredible. He’s been doing it for years and if there’s one person who knows how to make his way around a party, it’s Harry. Even with Columbia Law juniors around him, Harry’s gonna shine so fucking bright he’ll blind them. When he gets offered a line, he’ll do it because he knows now that you can’t survive their Manhattan without it. If Sebastian ignores him, Harry will smile, shrug and move on. Maybe he’ll spend three hours crying in the bathtub afterwards but he’ll be okay eventually. And that’s all that matters because he knows he will be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow but he will be one day.He’ff&He

            Peyton looks incredible and Harry tells her so as soon as he climbs in the backseat next to her. She looks radiant with her nearly black hair in soft curls, a shy smile on her lips. Harry guesses she’s pretty thrilled to be seen with the guy she likes in a more public setting. During the ride, Harry chooses to look out of the window and gaze at the buildings around them because he knows if he started talking to Peyton about the party, she’d know how nervous he is and Harry doesn’t want the affect his irritating anxiety has on him acknowledged by someone other than himself.

            When they finally stop, Peyton puts her hand on Harry’s jumping knee. “Hey,” she says softly. “I know you’re nervous but you don’t have to be. I’m gonna be around Cameron all night and you’ll be around me, okay? Cam and Sebastian are best friends, he’ll introduce you to him if he doesn’t remember you from high school, yeah?”

            Harry looks at her for a few seconds, hesitating, but he settles on flashing her his winning smile, the looped one with a dimple. “I have no idea who this Sebastian we’re talking about is and I’m quite offended you think _I,_ the master of seduction, would have boy problems. Peyton, sweetheart, you know me better than that.” He climbs out of the car then and hears Peyton groan behind him.

            “Harry Styles, when will you learn how to deal with emotions?” she cries.

            “Probably never,” Harry flashes her another grin and holds his arm out for her. Peyton rolls her eyes but hooks her arm around Harry’s nevertheless.

            They walk into _Trance,_ a club that Harry wouldn’t think hosted parties by law students but there they are. Harry scans the crowd carefully, looking at groups of students drinking and laughing. There are significantly less couples making out than at parties Harry usually attends but it will probably change as it gets later and more alcohol will have been consumed. As it turns out, Harry made a pretty good call about the outfit since he isn’t the only person there in a casual suit. It looks kind of ridiculous – people in suits in a quite trashy club.

            Harry’s attention moves at the speed of light when Peyton lets go of his arm and nearly runs to a guy with dark hair, snaking her arms around his neck while he holds her waist as they kiss. And that must be Cameron. To Harry’s surprise, it’s not the guy with the small dick or the one in rehab but the one that he once caught sneaking out of Gemma’s bedroom. That she subsequently slapped in the school courtyard the next day. How could Harry forget that spectacular debacle? It had to be the name since he was most often referred to as “fucking peace of shit”, “ugly motherfucker” or “horrible excuse of a human being” in his circle.

            Harry stands there awkwardly with his hands locked behind his back while they make out. He looks around, as if he wasn’t looking at them and waiting for them to let go off each other already. Peyton pulls away at last, whispers something to Cameron and grabs his hand. She drags him to Harry, both of them matching smiles on their faces.

            “Cameron, this is Harry, my best friend,” Peyton says once they’re all standing together. “And Harry, this is Cameron.”

            “Nice to meet you, man,” Cameron says and shakes Harry’s hand.

            “You too,” Harry replies. He’s actually grateful Peyton didn’t introduce them by their full names since Cameron must remember Gemma and it’d make everything awkward.

            “We should go to our table, yeah? My boys are there, you gotta meet them.”

            Harry just grins at Cameron and nearly cringes. This guy was born for a frat house.

            Peyton looks over her shoulder at Harry as they walk, winking at him and Harry rolls his eyes before smiling. He spots Sebastian right away, sitting at the edge of the seat. Harry hasn’t seen him in person in a few months and definitely not this up close. He looks just as good as he did on Instagram which is a good sign.

            “Boys, I want to introduce you to someone,” Cameron says, grabbing the attention of his friends. “This is Peyton. And that’s her best friend, Harry. Be nice to them and don’t fucking embarrass me, yeah?”

            There’s a chorus of laughter and Harry once again finds himself standing there awkwardly while Cameron and Peyton whisper into each other’s _mouths_ and not ears. Now that’s just bad fucking etiquette because every dumbass on this planet knows you introduce both parties.

            As if on cue, Sebastian whistles to get Cameron’s attention. Both Peyton and Cameron are snatches from their romantic interlude.

            “You’re not gonna introduce us to Peyton and Harry?” he asks with a calm voice and stoic face. Harry thinks he’s in love already.

            “Yeah, fuck, sorry bro. Guys, this is Sebastian, then there’s James, Eric, Donovan and Hayes. You all won’t mind if me and Pey leave you for a bit, yeah? Harry just sit here with the guys, we’ll be right back.”

            Before Harry has the chance to even give them a death glare, much less protest, Cameron is dragging Peyton somewhere, both of them giggling like fourteen-year-olds. So Harry just sighs and plasters a smile on his face, turning to the table again because what else can he do?

            “Hope this seat’s not taken,” Harry says to Sebastian with his best smile. Sebastian looks up at Harry and yup, those might be heart palpitations Harry’s having. He smiles at Harry, not showing his teeth, a studious look in his eyes.

            “Harry Styles, it’s good to see you again,” Sebastian says and Harry’s heart falls out of his ass.

            “You- um- you know me?” Harry stammers. He can’t fucking believe it.

            “Who wouldn’t know you? It’s a pleasure to be in your company again. I’m afraid we haven’t quite talked while we were both at St. Augustine’s, have we?”

            The ground beneath Harry’s feet disappears and he’s falling down into the deepest pits of hell. He must be dreaming. He has to be because there’s no fucking way Sebastian Kingsley remembers Harry from the time when Harry’s hair was a mess and he wore jeans so skinny his dick has nearly no blood circulation. But he isn’t that boy anymore and he has to get his fucking shit together.

            “No. No we haven’t. But we’re here now, aren’t we?” Harry drawls and his persona meticulously picked out for Sebastian is back in full swing. By the end of the night, he’s gonna have him on his knees or Harry will be on his knees for him but either way, they will be naked.

            “Yes, we are,” Sebastian nods.

            Harry clears his throat. “Can I join you at the table now?”

            Sebastian just smirks. “How about we get a drink at the bar instead?”

            “I can’t see why not,” Harry replies nonchalantly while his heart is pretty much doing somersaults in his ribcage.

            Sebastian stands up without any regard to the fact that he’s leaving all his friends behind. Harry lives through another light heart attack when Sebastian puts his hand on the small of Harry’s back and leads them towards the bar. It’s as if his hand was scorching, burning through the fabric of Harry’s jacket and shirt, leaving a blazing print on his skin. Sabastian was one of Harry’s ultimate teenage fantasies and now he’s here, leading Harry through a club like a fucking gentleman. It’s like some cliché coming-of-age film then, the end of it when Harry discovers at prom that his crush likes him back and they are crowned the royal couple of prom.

            “What do you want to drink?” Sebastian asks him once they reach the glowing counter of the bar.

            “A martini would be nice. Thanks.”

            Sebastian raises his hand a bit, calling for two martinis.

            “So, Harry, what college do you wanna go to?” Sebastian asks once they’re seated on two barstools and facing each other, both of them leaning their elbows on the bar.

            And Harry has to laugh then, at how ridiculous it looks. A hot college student Harry’s trying to sleep with asking him where he wants to go to college.

            “Really, that question?” Harry asks with a laugh and he’s pleasantly surprised to see Sebastian laughing with him.

            “You’re a senior, I had to!” Sebastian shrugs, his straight white teeth still on display.

            Harry shakes his head fondly. “An Ivy League one, that much I know. You know how parents are. Maybe Columbia, maybe Harvard, who knows?” Harry lies slightly. Just a bit. Sebastian doesn’t need to know right away that Harry would fucking run away from the States as fact as he could if he had the opportunity.

            “Good,” Sebastian nods. “I’m not going to bore you with school talk anymore.”

            “Thank god for that,” Harry chuckles.

            “How was your summer?” Sebastian asks after offhandedly thanking and paying for the martinis. He slides one to Harry and they clink their glasses before drinking.

            “Phenomenal,” Harry replies after he drowned a half of the glass. “I was in Europe the whole time. Needed a break from Manhattan, I guess. And Hamptons sounded boring, so did a two-week vacation in Bali or somewhere like that.”

            “So you turned eighteen and went on a Euro-trip?”

            Harry laughs and nods. “Yeah. I guess I did, didn’t it? How about you?”

            “Don’t even ask,” Sebastian scoffs. “I spent the whole summer at an internship at my father’s company. I was ecstatic to take that two-week island vacation.”

            “That sounds really responsible,” Harry says all serious like.

            “Yes, well, I’m not forty yet. Plenty of time for that.”

            “You’re absolutely right,” Harry grins, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I am _reckless_ a lot since I can still blame that on the fact that I’m a teenager. There’s nothing like thrill you feel when you’re sucking someone off in a club bathroom.”

            Sebastian’s face barely changes but the smirk on his lips is enough of a tell that this is going exactly where Harry wants it to go.

            “Harry Styles, are you seducing me?”

            “I might be. Is it working?”

            “I already bought you a drink, didn’t I?”

            “How about two more and then we’ll go search for that bathroom?”

            “That’s a deal.”

            And it surely is a pretty damn deal because it takes not even an hour of Harry smirking at Sebastian, giving him sultry looks and playing with his hair while _accidentally_ flashing a nipple before they leave their barstools and hand-in-hand walk towards a dark corridor where the restrooms are located. If there’s a classic Harry Style seduction then this is it. And it fucking works each and every time.

            Harry confidence is probably at an all time high as he follows Sebastian into the men’s bathroom, stepping in and locking after them. Sebastian has a ravenous look, his eyes dark as he bites his bottom lip and looks at Harry. The air around them is thick with desire and they both know they want each other. Harry makes the first move and holds Sebastian’s face between his hands, kissing him perhaps gentler than Sebastian expected. He’s a statue as Harry pecks his lips a few times. Then a sudden flash of movement shocks Harry as Sebastian grab’s Harry hips, pulling him close to his own body, their crotches touching and Harry can already feel Sebastian’s half-hard dick poking at his hip. He isn’t gentle at all in the way he bites at Harry’s lips and kisses him as if he was starving for it, how he keeps holding Harry’s hips and his hands slink down to Harry’s ass. Sebastian cups his ass and brings their hips even closer, grinding his own hips which makes Harry moan. He keeps it on all while switching between kissing and biting Harry’s lips and neck. Just when Harry feels like he’s about to come in his pants like a fucking fourteen-year-old, Sebastian pulls away, breathing hard with his hair a mess from Harry’s hands.

            “Why’d you stop?” Harry asks breathlessly and steps closer to Sebastian, trying to get his fingers on his belt. Sebastian catches his hands, holding both of Harry’s wrists and shakes his head.

            “Not until we go on a date, babe,” Sebastian whispers, making Harry lose the little breath his lungs had.

            “Fuck,” Harry breathes out, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Really?”

            “Yes. How about brunch tomorrow? We can go to my place afterwards. What do you think?”

            Harry nods eagerly. “Yeah. Fuck, that would be fucking perfect.”

            Sebastian kisses Harry again, slipping his tongue in just for a few seconds before pulling away. Harry already misses the warmth of his mouth.

            “I’m leaving this party, it’s pathetic. You should too so you get a good night’s sleep before our date tomorrow. At _ABC Kitchen,_ 1PM, I’ll get us a table, yes?”

            “Yeah,” Harry nods, the disappointment of Sebastian leaving the party basically non-existent because he’s too excited for their date. _Their date_. Harry can’t believe he’s actually getting more than a quick fuck in a club bathroom.

            “I really liked being with you tonight. Can’t wait for tomorrow,” Sebastian gives Harry another one of his wistful smiles before kissing him on the cheek and leaving the bathroom.

            Harry breaths out, this big breath as if he could finally breathe after hours underwater. He slashes his face with cold water and looks at himself in the mirror, his face discoloured thanks to the terrible fluorescent lights. Harry actually smiles at himself, breaking into giggles and he shakes his head how ridiculous he is as he pushes his hair away from his forehead. He just made out in a club bathroom with his crush from freshman year and they’re going on a date tomorrow. If he thought his life resembled a coming-of-age movie before, it is an exact copy of one now.

°°°°°

            “What do you think is gonna happen with us? Like after high school?”

            Harry looks curiously at Zayn, who just keeps walking, looking down at his fries. It’s around one in the morning and they went to see some indie band in _Brooklyn_ , leaving the venue hungry like fucking wolves. So they got fries at night, resisting the urge to get some more junk food. Then Harry had a very bright idea to take a walk around Brooklyn because they’re almost never there and the neighbourhood seemed lovely. So here they are.

            “What do you mean?” Harry asks before he puts three fries in his mouth at the same time.

            “Like… you and me. And Lara, Chris, Peyton. We’ve been friends for so long and then when we all go to college… we’re just gonna fall out of touch with each other.”

            Harry hums. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

            “No?” Zayn looks at him with lifted brows. “That’s what always happens. There’s a very slim chance all five of us will end up at the same college.”

            “Well, I’m not gonna let that happen,” Harry says resolutely. “We’re not going to throw away years and years of friendship for school. We’re sophomores and we’re still friends. We can still be friends when we’re in college. Facetime and Skype exist, it’s not like we’d have to send handwritten letters to each other.”

            “I hope you’re right,” Zayn sighs. “I care about you too much to let go.”

            Harry stops walking and grabs Zayn’s hand, forcing him to stand still too. He eyes Harry, his annoyingly Bambi-like eyes rimmed with confusion. Harry doesn’t know why but he pulls him into a kiss, carefully wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck so he doesn’t spill his fries on the sidewalk. Zayn’s hands go automatically to Harry’s wait, the paper cup of fries probably staining Harry’s jeans. Harry can’t stop kissing him, all tongue and teeth that is a bit obscene for a public space, and they both taste like fries which should be disgusting but somehow isn’t. He gets lost in the wonderful feeling of kissing Zayn, one that he’s learned to adore over the past few months. The low burn of arousal in his belly, the fucking butterflies. Harry could keep kissing Zayn forever, his best friend that is so fucking gorgeous and amazing at sex that Harry should probably go to church and thank all the deities that he’s the lucky person Zayn chooses to spend his nights with.

            Harry pulls away after what feels like hours because he really doesn’t want to get arrested for like… public indecency or whatever it is. He gives Zayn a small smile, keeping his empty hand on his neck.

            “What was that for?” Zayn asks with a smile.

            Harry shrugs, a smirk on his lips to play it cool. “You’re my best friend and you’re fucking amazing.”

            “Haz,” Zayn looks at him with the tell-tale look saying ‘ _Harry be fucking real for two seconds’._

            “I- I care about you too,” Harry says quietly. “All of you.”

            Zayn clears his throat and pulls away from Harry completely, putting at least a foot between them. “Well, I almost thought you were about to say something else.”

            “What else?” Harry asks, starting to walk to catch up with Zayn who’s already three feet ahead of him.

            Zayn chuckles and shakes his head. “Like… forget it. Maybe I thought you finally get your shit together and wanted to date for real but that would be just wishful thinking, yeah?”

            “Zayn,” Harry says softly. “We can’t ruin our friendship, okay? We can have everything that people have in a relationship just without the stupid additional drama and like… love. I’d say we have even more than them because our friendship is so much stronger than so called ‘ _love’_ you have with a person you met two months ago, yeah? Z, we’ve been over this.”

            “I know, Harry,” Zayn sighs. “I can’t change your mind. You have to come to that decision yourself, so.”

            Harry’s chest feels heavy, maybe with guilt maybe with something else that he can’t decipher. He chooses not to say anything because it would just tarnish a great night.

            They keep walking in silence for about a block but it’s a strained. Harry ignores the forceful beating of his heart as he reaches for Zayn’s hand and links their fingers together. Harry’s heart jumps in surprise when Zayn lets him and squeezes Harry’s hand in return. They never hold hands because they’re not dating so Harry doesn’t really see the point in it usually. But perhaps this time they need it. To ground themselves. And as a reminder that they will always be there for each other. That’s what best friends are for after all.

°°°°°

            Harry’s first date with Sebastian is also Harry’ first ever brunch date. It’s pretty fucking hot that Sebastian couldn’t wait until dinner to see Harry to be honest. Harry left the party maybe half an hour after Sebastian, mostly sober and so fucking happy he could shout it out from the top of Empire State Building. He woke up early too and had a light breakfast with his mom, which hasn’t happened in ages. Anne was as surprised as Harry himself to see him in the kitchen at 8 o’clock in the morning. They had a chat, as detached and poised as every single conversation Harry’s had with his mother ever since he turned fourteen. Sometimes he hates being the younger child because when Gemma was his age, their mom actually gave a few fucks about her behaviour and what drugs she carried in her YSL clutch. But with Harry, she doesn’t care as long as he goes to school, keeps up his grades and doesn’t look like an addict on the outside. Harry doesn’t even bother trying anymore. When she asked him what was he doing later and he replied that he had a date, she said ‘ _Say hi to Charlotte for me.’_ as if Harry hadn’t broken up with her half a year ago.

            The date turns out perfect. Harry’s mood is only improved by the fact that he doesn’t have a hangover on a Saturday, which doesn’t happen very often. Sebastian is extremely polite, a perfect gentleman. The conversation between them never gets dry or boring and Harry feels _genuinely_ happy for the first time since July when he watched sunrise in Capri. Sebastian’s a gentleman even when he fucks Harry into his mattress later that afternoon, asks him if everything’s okay as the bedframe hits the wall in a steady rhythm. At his third orgasm, Harry concludes that waiting a little over twelve hours to have sex with Sebastian was certainly worth it. Harry leaves Sebastian’s apartment in the evening when it’s still light outside, completely fucked out, love bites and bruises littering his body and a big grin on his face.

            On Monday in his beloved chemistry class, Zayn greets him with a ‘ _Hey, Harry. You look like you’ve been attacked by some animals. Squirrels or racoons?’_ , obviously referring to Harry’s love bites on his neck. Harry replies with ‘ _It’s not my fault no one wants to sleep with you. I’m sorry the hooker you called yesterday didn’t arrive.’_ and Zayn retorts with ‘ _Yeah, called for Mr. Trey’s amazing kinky services but he was too busy preparing today’s lesson.’_. Harry almost chokes with laugher although he really didn’t want to laugh at Zayn’s joke. At the end of the lesson, they civilly part their ways, saying bye and even smiling at each other without any malice. Harry figures it’s about time they buried the war hatchet and acted like regular classmates. It seems like Sebastian’s positive attitude is a good influence on Harry and since he’s most likely (definitely) Harry’s boyfriend now, Harry doesn’t feel like punishing Zayn for their past… _relationship_ or whatever Peyton calls it, anymore.

            September peacefully slinks into October as more and more leaves cover New York City and Halloween decorations start to pop up around the stores and houses. Harry and Sebastian keep going on dates, working it up to meeting almost every day. It’s the first relationship Harry has that he’s not dating someone he sees at school every day, and it took him some time to get used to not being able to make out in the school theatre during lunch break. But Sebastian always makes an amazing effort to see Harry truly every day. They get lunch after their classes end, sometimes even breakfast when they know they will be busy in the afternoon. And then of course there are actual dates in the evening that Harry can’t get enough of. Usually they just get dinner like any other couples do but sometimes they go see live music, poetry reading and even plays. It’s like a fairy-tale.

            Sebastian is obviously older and it certainly has its perks. From their date nights to sex, everything’s different compared to Harry’s previous relationships. They don’t fight about stupid shit like what are they going for a date night – they compromise. Like adults do. The nature of their dates is more grown up too. While Harry was used to parties and the occasional dinner, now it’s a broad spectrum of things that are not only a non-sexual foreplay for sex. Harry thinks dating Sebastian was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. Sebastian grounds him, keeps him tethered and level. It’s only thanks to him that Harry can continue in his attempt to stop doing drugs. Sebastian doesn’t do any and when they go to a party together, Harry’s not the only one saying no to a friend with a small baggie of cocaine. It’s a good thing. It’s actually the best thing. They spend parties mostly snuggled in a dark corner, making out before they leave the party and hole up at Sebastian’s apartment.

            It’s the best relationship Harry’s been in. Sebastian is sophisticated, polite and thoughtful in a way guys Harry’s age could never be. He always talks like he knows the secret to the universe, level and smooth, and it’s so fucking hot Harry has to bite his lips bloody sometimes. When they go somewhere, he always holds the door open for Harry and takes his coat. He holds his hand when they walk together and says hello and goodbye with a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. What some might find shocking, nearly all of that disappears when they’re having sex. Sebastian is rough, still careful but he and Harry haven’t fucked yet without Harry leaving Sebastian’s apartment with his hips and thighs covered in bruises and love bites. He loves holding Harry’s wrists, pulling his hair too. What Harry finds quite annoying is that Sebastian never wants to fuck in the good ol’ missionary way or let Harry fuck him too. But it’s not the worst thing in the world because Sebastian is still an extraordinary lover.

            By the end of September, Harry’s pretty certain that he’s in love with Sebastian. At the beginning of their relationship, Harry was completely enamored but it was just remains of the crush Harry had been harbouring on him. But with each date, each conversation, each late night in bed, Harry felt himself falling deeper and deeper. Sebastian is so attentive, he always listens to what Harry has to say and he never treats him like an eighteen-year-old, like he’s stupid just because he’s still a teenager. They’re on even footing in their relationship. Harry’s not just his ‘ _boy-toy’_ or a secret, like Peyton is to Cameron. Although ever since Harry and Sebastian started dating, Cameron refers to Peyton as his girlfriend in front of a certain very small group of people but even that makes Peyton smile at him like he’s just hung the moon and the stars.

            In the middle of October, Sebastian tells Harry he loves him.

            It’s a regular Friday date night at first, they meet at a pretty good restaurant that’s maybe a bit too fancy for a simple date. Maybe Sebastian’s choice could’ve revealed that he had something special up his sleeve. But it’s perfect as always. They eat, laugh, talk. Harry gets lost in Sebastian’s eyes and smile maybe a thousand times. Nothing out of the ordinary.

            Sebastian’s recounting a story about the behind the scenes of his Swan Night, an event that St. Augustine’s seniors created ages and ages ago to say goodbye to their high school by pulling a prank and going out with a bang just before he finally says those three magical little words.

            “Harry, I wanted to tell you something,” Sebastian says and reaches for Harry’s hands, taking them in his. He runs his thumbs over the backs of Harry’s hands over and over again. Harry’s heart might jump out of his chest it’s beating so hard. It’s perfect. Everything’s fucking perfect and Harry hopes they’re not about to break up because he’d never recover and probably never love again.

            “Shoot,” Harry says with a nervous chuckle. Sebastian laughs too, a small pensive laugh staying on his lips afterwards. Harry fears his hands have started shaking.

            “We haven’t been dating for too long but… I wanted to tell you that I love you. I know it’s probably too early but that doesn’t change the way I feel. You’re fucking amazing and you make me a better person. You’re just, I know this is gonna sound cheesy but you’re a fucking angel. You look like one too but that doesn’t matter to me at all. Your beauty is just a perk. You’re an incredible human being. I love you, Harry. I really do.”

            Harry’s breath gets lost someway on the short road between his lungs and nose. His mouth goes slack and _holy fucking shit, did that really just happen?_ The silent gasp is taken over by a smile, bright and fucking joyous. Harry might actually start crying like a stupid rom-com character in the middle of one of Manhattan’s best restaurants.

            “I love you too,” Harry says without hesitation. He’s known it for a while. If he was just a little bit more of a hopeless romantic, he’d say they were a love at first sight. Unfortunately, that’d be a lie since they’ve seen each other many times before they started dating but wouldn’t it make a fabulous fucking story for the grandchildren?

            “You do?” Sebastian asks, his eyes all wide in surprise. Harry smiles at that and caresses his hand.

            “Of course I do, don’t be stupid,” Harry says gently.

            “I thought I was being too forward, maybe,” Sebastian smiles, looking at their locked hands in the middle of the table. It’s a smile Harry’s learned to love, to adore. “I’m so fucking happy you feel the same way.”

            “Me too, babe,” Harry beams at him and feels his heart, his fucking soul settle in his chest. The overwhelming amount of happiness and love he’s felt ever since they first kissed cannot compete with anything. No one has ever made him feel this way, no one has ever loved him like this. It’s a feeling Harry has only lightly grazed with the tips of his fingers before, never getting a full taste of what it’s like to be loved and love in return. He’s been certainly missing out on something so magical he could never even attempt to put it in words. There’s only heaps of time ahead of them and Harry intends to fill every single second they have together with so much love, they will get sick with it and love even more as a result.

            Sebastian has made Harry so fucking happy it’s unbelievable. Harry’s turned a blind eye to all the bullshit that was torturing him before and he’s let love wrap him in its cocoon. He doesn’t worry about all that stupid shit surrounding him. The carefully crafted version of himself that was just for Sebastian has been overthrown by Harry himself, just Harry without all the expectations and reputation. He can be himself around Sebastian and even if he has to put on a tailored suit and be Harry Edward Styles, the heir, the Golden Boy, the king, he’s doing it with a genuine smile on his lips because Sebastian’s right by his side. Even if he isn’t, Harry knows they’ll soon end up in Sebastian’s bedroom and submerge themselves in the fucking ocean of love and happiness. And it feels pretty good to have someone to finally understand you and love you for who you are and not for your last name or credit card.

            Later that night when they’re back at Sebastian’s place and their clothes are quickly leaving their bodies, Harry finally convinces Sebastian to fuck the ‘ _heterosexual way’_ , as Sebastian once called it. Harry just wants to see Sebastian’s face when they fuck, wants to kiss him and bite his neck. It’s more personal, more intimate. They’re more connected that way, not just with their body but with their senses too.

            ‘ _I love you’_ aren’t the only words whispered in bed that evening.

            “I love you, Harry. You’re so beautiful, babe,” Sebastian says as he hovers over Harry. He can finally see Sebastian’s face properly and it’s the best fucking feeling.

            Harry lets out a weak ‘ _yeah’_ and lets himself be carried away on the waves of arousal and the fucking adoration he feels right now. He never thought being in love would feel this good. It’s like a fairy-tale and Harry’s scared sometimes that all of it is just a dream. It’s fucking perfect. Needing someone like this and having someone entirely for himself is a new experience, it’s mostly foreign but it doesn’t bring Harry any fear. It feels right even.

            “You’re mine, right, Harry? All mine and so fucking beautiful.”

            “’m yours,” Harry gasps out. Sebastian’s fingers on his hip tighten so much they will certainly leave bruises. Harry bites his bottom lip to keep down a moan.

            And there are those words – ‘ _you’re mine’_. Harry doesn’t hesitate when he says ‘ _I’m yours’_ back because he is, isn’t he? Not in the way that Sebastian has any ownership over him but in the way that he has the entirety of Harry’s heart. Sebastian can get a little possessive in the way he holds Harry close to himself at parties, holds his hip as they stand around and chitchat with people. But that’s love. Being completely captivated by someone, unable to keep your hands off them. Harry feels himself getting antsy without Sebastian sometimes. Bored and unsatisfied with the world. At this point, they need each other. They need the love to keep them afloat. It’s better to enjoy it while it lasts because love isn’t a constant. It always changes – once it’s up, other times it’s down. Right now, they’re flying so fucking high they couldn’t possibly touch the ground. But eventually, they will have to land and not focusing on when that will be is only wise.

            The first party Harry attends without Sebastian ever since the started dating is Lara’s Halloween party. No matter how many times Harry asked him, basically begged for him to go, Sebastian refused because apparently, he hates costume parties more than anything. So Harry pulls on a blonde wig, black bellbottoms with black lacy sheer shirt and a triangular throw with fringe and goes as Stevie Nicks because she’s a fucking legend.

            Harry loves Halloween so it’s not the worst thing that Sebastian isn’t going with him. He’s used to Sebastian’s presence when they’re out, it’s like a safe space in the middle of the fucking chaos of Harry’s social life. Sebastian’s always near, with a hand on Harry’s hip or his mouth on Harry’s neck. It’s comforting and reassuring. But this is Lara’s party. She’s one of Harry’s best friends and he knows her family’s penthouse as good as the back of his hand. And if he feels as terrible as he did at Isabelle Vanderbilt’s party, if he feels the crushing weight of pressure and expectations, he can always hide in Lara’s room and get drunk while playing with her cat.

            As always, Lara goes all out for the party. The apartment looks like a movie set with red neon lighting, smoke crawling around the floor and skeletons with many other props hanging from the ceiling and hiding in corners. The servers she got for the party are dressed as horror films’ killers and all the food and drinks are made to look disgusting. All in all, once Harry starts dancing with Lara and Peyton, and stuffing his face with cake pops that look like eyeballs, he’s happy even without Sebastian around.

            He spends the night laughing with his friends and classmates, does a line without freaking out and feels like he’s sixteen again, when partying used to be still this thrilling experience and everyone believed that each party is the most important thing in their very short lives. Harry sometimes forgets he’s still in high school when he’s around Sebastian but now he feels it as if he’s been slapped with it. All the careless drug use around him, DJ playing dozens of shitty rap songs by people whose names are a big fucking mystery to Harry, the deftness and easiness of how the party flows. It’s a great night.

            As the party’s winding down, more and more people passing out in various rooms and pieces of furniture, even the floor, Harry sneaks out to the terrace to finally have a smoke. He sits down on a deck chair, shaking out a cigarette and lighting it up. He doesn’t really think, just lets himself enjoy the relative quiet of the outside and the feeling of smoke filling up his lungs.

            “Hey.”

            “Jesus fucking Christ!” Harry shrieks. He turns to his side and sees Zayn lying in a hammock.

            “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Zayn says with a small smile that Harry can still see in the darkness. It’s never actually dark in New York City. No matter how far up they are, there’s still light coming from somewhere.

            Harry sighs and stands up, walking to the deckchair that’s closest to the hammock. He sits down, pulling his legs up and resting his left elbow on his knees.

            “Haven’t really seen you at the party. You’re hiding?” Harry asks.

            “No, just wasn’t dancing. I saw you though. You’re kinda hard to miss with those pants and that… thing around your shoulders,” Zayn laugh and Harry notices that he’s smoking a joint.

            “Can I?” Harry nods at the join between Zayn’s fingers. Zayn just hands it to him without saying anything while blowing up the smoke. Harry stubs his cigarette and leaves it on the ground.

            “What’s your costume?” Harry asks.

            Zayn looks down at his body and smirks. “I’m Neo. From Matrix.”

            “Oh, that’s cool,” Harry nods.

            The conversation stills between them as they pass the joint back and forth, quietly slowing the smoke out into the polluted Manhattan air.

            They’re started talking again, after Harry decided that it was about time he forgot about the time he and Zayn used to kind of date. It was a bit stiff at first, they were tense around each other in chemistry class but it was much better than what preceded it. They worked their way up from talking about school and their weekends to sitting in the courtyard together. Lara also added Zayn into their group chat with Peyton and Chris. Their friendship is almost back to what it was before Harry decided it was a good idea to kiss Zayn at a party and then continue to have sex with him for a year and a half. It’s easy, simple once they got over the initial barrier that was their past. They had to remind themselves that they were really good friends before they knew what their dicks looked like.

            And they really were. Before Harry went and fucked everything up by being horny, it was the five of them – Harry, Zayn, Lara, Chris and Peyton. Ever since middle school, they were the ‘ _Fab Five’_ , the coolest kids in Manhattan with the coolest clothes and their names on the guestlists of the coolest parties. They’ve been with each other while a lot of shit went down in their lives and sometimes they saved each other from destruction.

            There was a thing they had – code red. It was followed by a place they were supposed to meet at and it saved their asses many times but also saved their sanity. They used it for the first time when they were twelve and Peyton lost her mom’s diamond necklace. Then it served for parties gone wrong, school assignments that weren’t done, bad breakups and divorces of their parents. For a few years, it was a security they all had in their friendship and they all knew they could rely on each other. It all ended thanks to Harry’s stupidity.

            When he and Zayn ended whatever they did, Harry was hysterical. It was a fucking volcano explosion and now Harry knows that he got his heart broken for the first time. He’s quite sure that what he and Zayn had wasn’t love but there was affection and most importantly friendship. Harry didn’t lose just a fuck buddy but a best friend as well.

            He knows it wasn’t fair that Lara, Peyton and Chris had to choose sides afterwards but back then he didn’t care. He was hurt and he couldn’t imagine losing anyone else. It wasn’t so terrible because ever since they started high school, Zayn started to sort of stray away from them and hung out with the pretentious ‘artsy’ assholes of their year a lot which they teased him about. So after the explosion happened, Harry pretended like he never even knew Zayn at all. Lara, Peyton and Chris lasted about four days and even though in front of Harry they pretended they didn’t talk to Zayn, he knows they did and they eventually stopped giving a fuck about the whole feud maybe a month later. The three of them continued to be his friend like nothing at all happened because they knew Harry overreacted and Harry knew it somewhere deep down too but was too proud and stubborn to realize he was wrong.

            Harry knows he can’t fix everything with a few conversations and he certainly can’t travel back in time to flick himself on the forehead and tell himself to get his shit together. But the least he can do now, is to be Zayn’s friend again, even though Harry knows he never deserved how nice Zayn was about the whole thing. While Harry was bitter and raging like an angry squirrel, Zayn got over it fast and treated Harry as he would any other classmate or a friend. Harry has a lot of time to make up for.

            “Where’s your boyfriend?” Zayn asks out of nowhere.

            Harry raises his brows. “Home, I guess. Why?”

            “Haven’t seen you at a party without him in ages so I was just curious.”

            “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like costume parties, so.”

            Silence envelops them again, both of them staring at the long expanse of New York City with its twinkling lights and honking even in the middle of the night.

            “I just realized that I never apologized to you,” Harry says suddenly, his eyes still on the tall buildings of Manhattan.

            “What for?”

            “For treating you like… that after we… after we stopped…after-,“ Harry sighs. “After we stopped-“

            “I know.”

            “Yeah. I’m sorry. I was so fucking dumb about the whole thing. You didn’t deserve that and I could never possibly apologize to you enough. I’m gonna have to say sorry every day for like three years at least because you were my best friend and then we… we did some things. And I falsely accused you of being behind that video like a stupid little brat. I don’t even know why the fuck did I think it was you when you were always one of the best people I knew and I’m so fucking ashamed I did that. You were always my best friend and I-“

            “Harry, it’s fine.”

            Harry feels Zayn’s hand on his wrist, gentle and cold against his skin. He looks at him, now sitting next to Harry on the deck chair and it hits Harry how much he missed him. They were best friends for so long, always together, always just a text or a phone call away. Harry made the biggest mistake he could by pushing Zayn away for so long.

            “We all did things we’re not proud of,” Zayn says quietly, keeping eye contact with Harry. “It was shitty what you did, it was. But life goes on, yeah? I moved on ages ago. I didn’t hold a grudge because that shit is toxic and it’s not good for you. You made a mistake but we’re here now, aren’t we? So stop looking like a kicked puppy because dwelling over this won’t change anything, yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Harry nods, his throat closing on it itself like he’s going to cry. “Yeah, you’re right.”

            Zayn gives him a small smile and pulls him into a hug. When Harry catches a whiff of Zayn’s characteristic Gucci cologne, he swears it feels like coming home. Or more like he’s fifteen again.

            “Why are you always so fucking smart?” Harry mumbles into Zayn’s neck. Zayn just laughs and stokes Harry’s back like he always used to when they hugged, years ago at a time that sounds like a completely different life.

            They pull away after a while, now with Harry wearing a smile as well.

            “We’re okay, yeah?”

            Harry nods. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

            And because it’s almost two years after everything between them went to shit, Harry allows himself to feel happy about this because there are no hormones compromising his feelings or teenage stupidity. Talking about feelings has always been a difficult feat for Harry but he did good this time. He’s certainly growing up. He’s not sixteen anymore, afraid to get into a relationship or tell his friends he loves them. Harry knew he loved Sebastian and he’s not scared to tell him a hundred times a day if he wants to. He’s aware of his feelings so he’s not doing stupid shit anymore.

            When Harry gets undressed later in his bedroom and his shirt smells like weed and Gucci, it makes him smile. It also reminds him of wrinkled bedsheets that smelled like that and soft kisses but all of it is just a distant pleasant memory.

°°°°°

            “Haz, turn off that fucking alarm, please.”

            Harry groans and reaches for his phone on the nightstand, turning the alarm off and letting the phone drop on the bed. He feels a kiss on his shoulder and smiles, knowing they have time because Harry set the alarm twenty minutes earlier than needed.

            “Babe, do we have time?” Zayn mumbles into Harry’s neck.

            Harry turns around in the bed and kisses Zayn square on the mouth. “Yes, we have, because I’m a mastermind and I set the alarm for 6.30AM on purpose.”

            They probably should’ve slept instead of getting up early to fuck before school, but after they got to Zayn’s family’s penthouse at 2AM, they were too tired to do anything and Harry thought that spending the night together without fucking is a missed opportunity. They don’t get to wake up in one bed during school week that often.

            “You’re a genius,” Zayn says, his lips catching on Harry’s as he speaks. Harry pulls him into a kiss then, slipping his tongue in, not giving a fuck about morning breath because they’re sixteen (well, Harry is) and disgusting.

            Just as Zayn finally grabbed Harry’s ass, a phone goes off. And since they’re both annoying fucks with the default iPhone ringtone, they have no idea whose phone is actually ringing.

            Harry groans after pulling away and blindly reaches for his phone with his arm behind his back. It turns out that it wasn’t his but he finds a disturbing amount of texts and missed calls (his phone was on silent the whole time it seems) raging from his mom and Gemma to Lara, Chris and many other friends. Harry furrows his brows at the sight and slides one open from Gemma, since hers sound the most urgent.

            “It’s Lara,” Zayn says before picking but Harry ignores him as he reads the texts from his sister because he must be fucking dreaming. He stares at the words, then looks at texts from Lara and his mom and they’re saying pretty much the same thing. Zayn’s still talking to Lara on the phone but it’s just background noise to Harry as he feels everything crumbling down under him. His head starts spinning once he hits play on the video and he watches it somehow, all 1:12 minutes of it.

            This can’t be fucking happening. Not to him, not now. He’s not the type of person who gets caught with a dick in his mouth in an empty room at a party but now there’s a fucking video and apparently everyone has it and everyone has seen Harry Styles with a dick in his mouth.

            “Did you do this?” Harry asks, looking at Zayn who’s still on the phone with Lara. Zayn’s jaw drops in a silent gasp, looking at Harry as if he was crazy. He says bye to Lara quickly and ends the call.

            “What the fuck, Harry? Why would you think I’d have someone film me while my boyfriend’s sucking me off in a hotel conference room at a party? And then have it leaked to literally all of New York? Are you crazy?”

            Harry gets up from the bed quickly, grateful that he’s wearing underwear. “I’m not your boyfriend and that’s exactly why you would do it! To tell everyone that we’re together but we’re not! Do you hear me, we’re not dating!”

            Zayn crosses his arms, his eyes raging with anger. “Then what the fuck do you call us having sex almost every day for over a year?”

            “Fucking!” Harry screams, gathering his clothes from the floor and angrily pulling on his pants. “We were fucking! And you were supposed to be my best friend! And not pull this fucking shit to blackmail me into dating you!”

            Zayn scoffs and runs his hand through his hair. “God, Harry, you’re fucking ridiculous. I would never do something like that! Not to you and not to myself. How can you think I was behind it? Don’t you fucking know me at all?”

            Harry pulls on his socks last, almost falling down on his teeth. “You were the one who had to act like there were feelings between us or whatever bullshit. I’m done with you.”

            “Harry-“

            “No!” Harry pulls his left boot on, his breathing heavy as he stands straight and looks at Zayn who’s still half a room away from him. “Don’t fucking talk to me. Delete my number and never speak to me again.” Harry pulls on his other boot and grabs his phone from the bed.

            “Harry, please. Listen to yourself for a few seconds. This is ridiculous. Please.”

            Harry sees Zayn walking closer to him. “Don’t fucking try to touch me right now.”

            Zayn stops, standing in front of the foot of his bed. Harry notices a tear streaming down Zayn’s face and his heart clenches so hard he thinks he’s gonna drop dead in an instant.

            “I hate you,” Harry says and his voice shakes, his hands shake as he grabs the door knob while still having his eyes on Zayn who looks like he’s in pain and Harry has to fucking leave before he starts crying too and kissing his tears away.

            “Harry-“

            Harry slams the door after himself before he can hear anything more. He clenches his teeth as he dials his driver’s number, walking quickly to through the corridor. He reaches the spiral staircase and grabs the railing in support because his knees are so fucking weak he’s glad he hasn’t fallen yet. Downstairs in the living room, Harry’s met with the sigh of Zayn’s dad sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee next to him, reading the newspaper. He looks up at Harry before Harry has the chance to bolt out of the door.

            “Harry. I didn’t know you slept over,” he says with a smile. Harry feels like jumping out of the window.

            “Good morning, Mr. Malik,” Harry gets out of himself, his voice as shaky as his hands.

            “Good morning. Are you alright? You look upset. Did you and Zayn have a fight?”

            Harry shakes his head while looking at the floor. “No.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I have to go,” Harry says without giving Zayn’s dad another look and walks to the door as quickly as he can. The elevator door opens less than a minute after Harry pushes the button. He gets in and stares at the floor the whole ride down, ignoring the other people that come in. He nearly runs through the lobby, ignoring the doorman greeting him and he’s relieved to see that Harry’s driver is already waiting for him. Clint must’ve been already on the way, since Harry told him he would be going to school straight from Zayn’s place.

            Harry throws himself in the back seat and breaths heavily, his chest falling and rising strenuously. Clint starts driving right away.

            “Please, take me home,” Harry says quietly. “And roll up the partition.”

            Once he’s secluded in the backseat, Harry breaks down. The tears can’t be stopped anymore and neither are loud sobs, nearly painful. He cries so loudly that Clint probably still hears him but Harry doesn’t care because he feels like he’s been torn apart. The pain in his chest must be from his lungs collapsing or something because that can’t be heartbreak. But maybe it is because his hands are still shaking and he can barely breathe. Hot streams of tears are flooding his cheeks, his nose already getting stuffy. He can’t think. He can’t fucking think about anything else other than the sight of Zayn standing in his bedroom, staring at Harry as if he just fucking ripped his heart out. And maybe Harry did because he’s a selfish fucking piece of shit.

            He covers his face with his hands as he sobs harder, faced with the realization how fucking stupid it all was because why the fuck would Zayn do that? Why on earth would anyone do that to the person they want to date? Harry’s stupid, he’s so fucking stupid but what is he supposed to do now? Turn the car around and go apologize? He can’t do that because he would look even more laughable than he does now.

            Harry fucked it all up. First, he fucked their friendship up by sleeping with Zayn and now he fucked absolutely everything up and there’s no going back. There just isn’t a solution to this other than continuing with what he screamed at Zayn in his bedroom. Unless they’ll find out who really did it but even then, it wouldn’t matter because Harry can’t just crawl back to Zayn after saying those things to him. God, he fucked everything up beyond saving. What is Lara gonna say to this? And Peyton? And Chris? Harry just ruined their years-long friendship in a fucking blink of an eye.

            Even as he cries in his bed for hours, his thumb hovering over the call button next to Zayn’s number, Harry doesn’t know how he could possibly apologize for this. He doubted their friendship, doubted everything they built together as friends and as… whatever they were for the past year and a half. This can’t be fixed with an apology. It can’t be fixed with anything really. So Harry just doesn’t fix it. He spends two days in his bed, crying his eyes out and regretting every single word he said after he saw the video, and then acts like nothing happened. He tells Lara, Peyton and Chris what he thinks happened, ignores Zayn at school, deletes his number and tries to move on even though there’s a hole in his chest and he’s constantly missing a voice saying his name and a hand on his waist.

°°°°°

            Exactly a week after Halloween, on a Friday no less, Harry has a chemistry midterm. And thanks to the lovely Mr. Trey, chemistry is one of the few subjects Harry has to study for properly, in this case until he literally cries blood. He had to pull an almost all-nighter to learn everything and he walks into class with dark circles under his eyes, still uncertain that he knows everything he should for the test. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s literally going to have Mr. Trey kidnapped and sent to some remote location for the rest of his life.

            Zayn’s already sitting behind their desk, serenely sipping Starbucks while he’s looking at something on his laptop. He doesn’t even look at tired. Or terrified for his life.

            “Did you sacrifice a virgin last night or do you have a really good concealer and undereye mask?” Harry says as a greeting as he falls into his chair and slaps his laptop down on the desk.

            “Neither? What’s going on?” Zayn asks with furrowed brows.

            “Um, the midterm? Like have you forgotten or you didn’t study? Why do you look like you had a good night’s sleep?”

            Zayn starts laughing which Harry considers pretty fucking rude considering he’s in a lot of pain. Mostly emotional but his head hurts too. He’s probably close to a heart attack after the coffee he had in the morning and the Redbull he had an hour ago.

            “Harry, how long did you study for? You look like you’ve died a week ago.”

            “Maybe six hours, I don’t know. You?”

            “Two hours tops,” Zayn shrugs.

            “I’m going to murder you,” Harry announces and opens the file with his notes, hoping that magically he’s gonna read just the things that will be on the test and his brain will then serve the information to him on a silver platter.

            The midterm turns out to be quite manageable. It’s not the worst test of Mr. Trey’s that Harry’s taken. Or maybe it was totally terrible but Harry’s sleep deficiency and possible caffeine overdose tricked him into thinking he did kind of well on it. It’s either one of those.

            “How’d you do? Was the studying worth it?” Zayn asks him as they pack their things up.

            “I guess it was okay. And yeah it was, because if I had studied any less, I know I would’ve failed it.”

            “Harry that’s bullshit and you know it. You’re smart and a chemistry midterm isn’t learning Chinese overnight. I’m sure you did good.”

            “Okay wow, stop jerking off my ego.”

            They both start laughing as they leave the Classroom of Doom, both of them walking straight for the door. There’s nothing like leaving school on Friday, especially after such a terrible class.

            “Where are you going?” Zayn asks him once they’re outside.

            “To _Oleander_ , I’m having lunch with Sebastian. You?”

            “I’m headed that way too. I’m having lunch with mom.”

            “Great, we can walk together,” Harry flashes Zayn a smile as they cross the road. “How is she, by the way? I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

            “She’s good, I guess. She asked about you a few days ago actually. Saw you and Sebastian at _Eleven_ in Madison Park but she didn’t wanna just come up and talk to you because you were on a date.”

            “Oh, she should’ve!” Harry blurts out. “It’s not like she would’ve joined us or something. She could’ve said hi.”

            “Well, I’ll let her know she can do that next time she sees you,” Zayn laughs.

            “I need to tell my mom to invite you all for dinner soon. We all need to catch up.”

            “Yeah, I guess we do,” Zayn sighs.

            They walk in silence until they reach _Oleander_ , but it’s not uncomfortable. Their elbows brush occasionally, their hands hidden from the cold in their pockets. They were always able to just exist together, occupy the same space without needing to talk or do something. It’s an amazing quality in a friendship.

            “Guess we’re here. Enjoy your weekend,” Harry smiles at Zayn and pulls him into a quick hug.

            “You too, Haz,” Zayn says and he leaves with a small wave. Harry waves after him and then walks in into the warm restaurant, finally getting out of the nasty November weather.

            Harry spots Sebastian right away at a table near the window. A smile immediately appears on his face and he starts walking towards him.

            “Hi, babe. Sorry you had to wait, my last class was chemistry, we had a midterm. You know how Mr. Trey is,” Harry pecks Sebastian on the lips. Sebastian, ever the gentleman, takes Harry’s coat and puts it next to his on an empty chair.

            “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Sebastian gives him a stiff smile. “Who was that guy you walked here with? I didn’t get a good look on him.”

            Harry blinks at Sebastian, lowering his menu. “A classmate. Why are you asking?”

            “Just wondering. Kind of looked like your ex.”

            Harry raises his eyebrows. Sebastian’s not looking at him anymore, instead he’s staring down at the menu in his hands.

            “Aw, babe, are you jealous?” Harry asks playfully and reaches for Sebastian’s hand across the table. He doesn’t expect Sebastian to drop the menu and grab Harry’s wrist.

            “You think you’re funny?” Sebastian says through his teeth.

            Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “Babe-“

            “You’re walking around with your fucking ex and then you act like it’s funny?”

            “He’s not my ex. Let me go.”

            Sebastian just stares at him, his eyes burning with anger. Harry’s never seen him like this.

            “Let. Me. Go,” Harry says, not letting his gaze slip from Sebastian’s eyes. “We’re in the middle of a restaurant and you’re hurting me.”

            Sebastian drops Harry’s wrist as if it suddenly was scorching hot. Harry pulls his arm back, massaging his fingers over the red marks on his wrist. He didn’t realize it until now how fast his heart his beating.

            “I’m so sorry,” Sebastian says and Harry lifts his gaze up only to find Sebastian staring at his own hands. “You know I love you, I didn’t mean it. I haven’t slept much and seeing you with that guy… I’m sorry for my harsh reaction.”

            Harry sighs. “It’s fine. I get it. I love you too. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

            “What is it?” Sebastian finally lifts his eyes up.

            “Do you want to spend the Thanksgiving with my family? We’re probably going to Hamptons and I’d be really nice for you to meet them all.”

            Sebastian smiles at him and Harry finds himself struggling to reciprocate it. The jealous outburst is something he never would’ve expected from Sebastian and it put him off. He doesn’t know how to feel about it but after all, don’t we all have bad days? Sebastian loves him and it’s never good seeing the person you love with someone else. Harry can understand the fear Sebastian probably felt which led him to his reaction.

            “Yes, I’d love to. Isn’t it a bit too early? Halloween was only last week.”

            Harry shrugs. “Not really. Although the location of the event might change. Maybe we’ll stay in Manhattan but I’ll let you know, don’t worry.”

            “I can’t wait, babe.”

            Harry smiles, albeit reluctantly. “Me neither.”

            That’s the first time Sebastian’s possessiveness and jealousy grew into something more than just grips on Harry’s hip and grunting ‘ _You’re mine’_ into Harry’s ear when they were fucking. Harry doesn’t pay it much mind because it happens in every relationship. To Sebastian, Zayn might look like Harry’s ex and he must’ve felt worried that Harry’s going to cheat on him, either physically or emotionally. So when Harry leaves the restaurant with bruises forming around his wrist, he ignores it. Sebastian’s his boyfriend and they’re in love. A little jealous misstep doesn’t matter in the long run.

            Harry turns a blind eye to Sebastian’s jealousy from that moment. What good does it bring that he’s going to be obsessing about Sebastian’s glares at Harry’s friends or how Sebastian holds him a bit too tight sometimes? He’s not going to make it a problem in their relationship because every other aspect is perfect. All men get jealous and Harry’s not going to stop Sebastian’s jealousy with a few words. They both know that they are faithful and that’s all that matters.

            Harry realizes it was a mistake when Sebastian slaps him for the first time.

            It happens a few days before Thanksgiving, after a party Chris threw. Harry got really drunk and let his wild side out a bit. He didn’t even do a line or take a pill, all it took was whiskey and being around Chris. And Harry couldn’t stop himself once Chris dragged him away from the couch where he was making out with Sebastian and they started dancing like they were freshmen again. The DJ put on those club songs from early 2000’s that we somehow unironically popular within Harry’s circle for the past few years. They were basically the soundtrack of Harry’s childhood and his high school years despite each taking place in a different decade. And well, Harry didn’t see it coming because he was drunk off his ass but he should’ve. He should’ve noticed that when they were leaving, Sebastian gripped Harry’s wrist instead of holding his hand and they didn’t talk all the way to Sebastian’s apartment. Sebastian started talked once they were in his bedroom.

            “What the fuck did you think you were doing tonight?”

            Harry blinks and his mouth goes slack. “What?”

            “You were acting like a whore out there. Do you realize how you made me look, Harry?”

            “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say right now,” Harry says quietly, his heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. He’s too drunk to deal with this right now.

            Sebastian walks to Harry and grabs his ass, pulling Harry close to himself so their chests and groins are touching. “You’re mine, only mine. You don’t get to talk to other men like that and dance with them like a cheap stripper. Do you understand?”

            “Can you stop being so jealous, please? Baby, I’m sorry. You know that I love you, only you,” Harry whispers, trying to sound confident but his voice is shaking as if he was standing out in the cold without a coat on. He’s so tired after classes and this never-ending party, his mind out of focus and his stomach full of whiskey. He wants to lean his head down and rest his eyes when suddenly, Sebastian’s pushing Harry away. Harry throws him a quick look but after seeing a pair of angry eyes, he feels a sharp blow of stinging pain on his cheek. His hand immediately goes to his own face afterwards, touching the already heated skin in disbelief.

            He tries to say something but his mind is blank, completely fucking blank. He breathes heavily as his own hand on his cheek is replaced, a slew of ‘ _I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, you know, right?’_ is whispered in his ear.

            “C’mon, let’s go to bed, yeah? I’ll take care of you, babe. I’ll always love you.”

            Harry doesn’t say a thing. Harry stays silent even when Sebastian undresses him and kisses the cheek he has just hit. No words leave his mouth as they fuck and he leaves bruises on Harry’s hips. Harry kisses him back but he never closes his eyes. He doesn’t do so even when they lay under the thin cover, an arm wrapped around Harry’s middle. He doesn’t because when all he can see is darkness, it’s quickly replaced by the sight of dark eyes burning with anger and the sound of skin meeting skin filling his ears.

            He doesn’t sleep a wink that night. Sebastian holds his waist as he does every time they sleep together and Harry feels claustrophobic but he can’t move. He can’t move and he can’t speak, he can’t do anything but stare at the wall and think. The slap gets replayed in his memory over and over and over again until Harry nearly drives himself crazy and it doesn’t even feel real anymore, like it never even happened and all of it was just him imagination. But it did. Harry can feel his cheek burning well into the night and it stops once there’s already sun outside.

            Harry thinks about leaving but hitting Sebastian back first and maybe kneeing him in the dick too but he decides against it. He mulls over it all night but he can’t deny that he still loves Sebastian. Despite the slap, despite the jealousy, he’s the best boyfriend Harry has ever had. Sebastian loves him – completely and unconditionally. He listens to him, lets him complain about school but he also trusts Harry enough to shit on his professors as well. They never run out of topics for conversation and they never get bored of being together. What they have is a rare thing because people don’t fit this well with anyone. Love is a complicated mystery and it’s never simple or easy. After all, Sebastian didn’t _hurt_ him. There wasn’t any blood or bruises. Actually, there’s more of it when they have sex. So it’s not that big of a deal.

            At first, Harry thought it was a one-time thing. A moment of weakness where jealousy got the better of Sebastian. Nothing more, nothing less. But it wasn’t.

            Harry avoids Sebastian until Thanksgiving. It’s the longest they go without seeing each other in person since they started dating. Harry convinces himself that it’s not because he’s afraid of Sebastian but because they both need a little break from each other. Also, Harry has a lot of exams. It is midterms season after all.

            He responds to all of Sebastian’s texts and calls, blaming his full schedule on studying. And Harry actually stays inside his bedroom the whole time, only leaving for school and then going back home right away. His suspicious behaviour goes unnoticed for the most part.

            Harry was scared Sebastian would try to wait for him after school and he actually did but Harry managed to get out before he noticed. He was walking out of the building with Lara when he noticed Sebastian standing on a pavement, talking to Mrs. Dalton. Harry froze, told Lara to avoid Sebastian and in case he asked her where Harry was, she was to say that Harry had consultation concerning his college applications and that he’d be too long for Sebastian to wait and then Harry had to go home and study anyways. She rolled her eyes but didn’t question Harry as he ran back inside the school building.

            By Thanksgiving, Harry kind of missed Sebastian and was relieved when he got the text that Sebastian was outside. They ended up going to Hamptons, staying there from Wednesday to Monday. Sebastian couldn’t come with them since he had school obligations of his own and told Harry he’d come in the evening.

            Harry opened the door with a smile and pulled Sebastian into a kiss right away.

            “I missed you,” Harry whispered. His chest already felt lighter and Harry’s smile only grew when he saw that Sebastian had a small smile on his lips too.

            “You’re not even gonna let me in?” Sebastian asked with a quirk of his brow.

            “Oh yeah, come on in,” Harry stepped away to let Sebastian pass. He has just a leather hold-all with him, slung over his shoulder.

            “We have to be quiet, everyone’s already asleep. You’re here a bit later then we expected,” Harry says as he locks the door, his back turned to Sebastian who’s standing in the foyer. His face suddenly meets with the wood of the wood, his shoulders painfully hitting the door as well. Feels a hand at the back of his head.

            “Where the fuck were you?” Sebastian growls into his ear.

            “Nowhere. Home. School,” Harry says quietly. He thinks he isn’t breathing anymore, that his heart stopped pumping blood and it’s just contracting and relaxing, empty in his ribcage.

            Sebastian’s hand drops from his head and the heat of his body fades from Harry’s side.

            Harry slowly pushes himself off he door. He turns around, facing Sebastian who still has flecks of anger almost literally jumping out of his eyes.

            “Who were you with?” Sebastian asks, still poising himself as calm and smooth as always.

            “No one. I literally only left my house to go to school and then I got back. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet but you don’t have to hurt me just because you’re not informed about my whereabouts 24/7.”

            Harry feels the stinging pain once again after Sebastian’s hand meets with his left cheek. A small shock comes when he hits him another time on the other side, this time hitting the area around his cheekbone. Harry stares at him again, this time with clenched teeth and sure eyes.

            “If you hit me again, I’ll hit you back and you don’t want that,” Harry tries to sound as calm as he can, act like his heart isn’t racing and his knees aren’t turning into jelly. His voice shakes less than he thought it would and the threat leaves Sebastian starting at him in mild shock.

            Then he starts crying. Sebastian starts fucking crying as he walks to Harry and starts peppering his face with soft kisses. Harry stands there like a statue, confused at the sudden change in Sebastian’s behaviour.

            “I’m so so so fucking sorry, Harry,” he whispers as he cradles Harry’s face in his hands. “I love you so much and I’m just really scared that you’re gonna fall out of love with me. You’re so beautiful and any man would fucking kill to have you. You have to understand that I’m just scared. I’m terrified.”

            “Sebastian, baby, I understand but there are other ways in which you can show your concern, okay?” Harry says, worried which word is gonna be the one that earns him another hit.

            But Sebastian doesn’t raise his hand again. He just nods, leaning his forehead against the top of Harry’s head and kissing Harry’s forehead before pulling away. He looks down at Harry, still with tears surrounding his eyes.

            “I can’t believe you still love me,” Sebastian says quietly.

            “I do,” Harry says. “But we should go to bed, yeah? You go ahead, my room is the second door on the left. I’m gonna grab some water and come upstairs. Maybe I’ll call Lara first, she told me to call her later so she can complain about her annoying cousin, okay?”

            “Okay,” to Harry’s surprise, Sebastian nods and starts walking up the stairs right away.

            Harry breaths out in relief and goes to the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water before dialling Lara. It goes straight to voicemail which is weird since she wanted Harry to call her. But Harry doesn’t want to go upstairs yet so he considers calling Peyton but she’s with Cameron so they’re definitely going to be busy and he already knows Chris and his older brother Daniel are getting drunk in Aspen. So tries calling Zayn instead, knowing he’s gonna be up and probably not busy. Thankfully, he does pick up.

            “Can you talk?” Harry asks.

            “ _Yeah, what’s up?”_

“I’m gonna pretend like you’re Lara, okay? Don’t even ask, I was supposed to call Lara and she’s not picking up so I called you instead because I wanted to talk to someone. And Sebastian’s on a real jealousy streak right now, I don’t want him to hear, okay?” Harry whispers quickly, hoping Zayn heard everything.

            “ _That’s… weird but okay. What did you wanna talk about?”_

“Just…” Harry sighs. “I don’t know. Anything. Talk about something please, before I go crazy in this house.”

            Zayn laughs into the phone. He’s probably smoking in his bed right now if Harry knows him at all anymore. “ _Well, Doni is home from college. I haven’t seen her in ages so I was excited to talk to her in person and not only on facetime. But since she’s becoming the best doctor ever or whatever, she doesn’t even have time to facetime her beloved brother once a week lately. And because Marcus, her lovely, lovely boyfriend that_ must _be the smartest and most brilliant person ever, is here with her, I can’t get even five minutes with her alone because he’s always with her. It’s like he’s scared we’re all gonna bite him because he’s dating her and he’s her first serious boyfriend. So yeah, I’m really annoyed. Tell me your sister doesn’t hate you all and she didn’t bring a boyfriend with her?”_

Harry’s smile turns into laughing. “No, no she didn’t. But I did so mom is gonna be pestering her about it until the second we leave.”

            “ _Oh that kinda sucks. Well, at least for her.”_

“Yeah, I guess. But now I kinda wish I didn’t bring him here.”

            “ _Why?”_

            Harry sighs, trying to come up with something other to say than ‘ _Because he hit me less than five minutes after coming here and I’m scared that it’s not the last time and I miss you, and Lara, and Peyton, and Chris because two years ago we would’ve been eating pumpkin pie together in my bed while getting high but instead I’m in Hamptons with my boyfriend who loves me but also apparently loves hitting me when he gets jealous.’_

            “Well, it’s a family event, isn’t it? I should’ve enjoyed it just with my family for the last time while I live at home,” Harry says instead.

            “ _Yeah I guess you should’ve. But there’s no going back now, is there? It’s not like you can just kick Sebastian out right now and say ‘Bye, go home. We’ll see each other on Monday.’.”_

“No, I can’t do that,” Harry sighs.

            “Harry.”

            Harry turns around, his heart racing again. He breathes out in relief when he sees Gemma standing in the doorway wearing her pyjamas and turkey slippers.

            “I need to talk to you,” she says and gestures at Harry’s phone.

            “Zayn, I have to go. Gemma’s here. Thanks for entertaining me so late at night. Goodnight,” Harry says quickly and he can already see that the conversation she’s about to have with Gemma is going to be very unpleasant.

            “ _Always, I obviously… like talking to you since you’re my friend yeah? Goodnight, Haz.”_

            The phone call’s disconnected and Gemma’s staring at Harry like she’s ready to fight him. Similar to what she looked like before she slapped Cameron in the school courtyard all that time ago.

            “Harry, would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on between you and Sebastian?” she asks with terrifying levelheadedness.

            “We’re dating Gem, you know that. What else would be going on?”

            “Don’t you fucking play your games now,” Gemma says through her teeth. “I saw everything.”

            Harry’s heart drops to the bottom of his stomach.

            “I heart the car parking on the gravel so I got out of bed. I figured it would be nice seeing Sebastian again after three years and meeting him as my baby brother’s boyfriend. The perfect boyfriend that you gushed about and recited odes about how amazing he is and how you’re so in love. And then I get to the stairs and what do I see? That perfect boyfriend hitting my baby brother on the face. Twice. So don’t fucking lie to me Harry and tell me how long it’s been going on before I go to your room and rip Sebastian’s dick off.”

            Harry knows there’s no point in lying now.

            “It happened just once before and it was one light slap. It’s really nothing, Gem. Don’t worry about it.”

            “Don’t worry about it?” she screams, immediately realizing how loud it was and lowering her voice. “I know you’re probably in denial but your boyfriend is abusing you, Harry. This isn’t okay. Not at all. He’s hurting you. Have you seen your face? There’s a bruise forming right above your cheekbone. You _can’t_ tolerate it.”

            Harry feels a tear slide down his cheek. He breaks into sobs and Gemma looks at him with a sigh before pulling him into a hug, stroking his back and whispering ‘ _It’s gonna be okay’_ over and over again.

            “He loves me, Gem. And we’re so fucking happy together. You don’t understand, I can’t leave him,” Harry says into her shoulder. Gemma pulls away, holds his face gently and looks into his eyes with that fierce gaze of her.

            “Harry, you can’t let yourself go through this. You deserve better.”

            “Gem, listen to me,” Harry takes her hands in his and lowers them to their waists. “I don’t care that something physically hurts me for a few minutes. Or that I have a bruise for a few days. We as humans are flawed and so is Sebastian. He lets his jealousy get the better of him, his bad temper too and it ends with this. But what you don’t see is how many times he kisses me, you don’t hear our conversations, you don’t see al the good times. Because the bad parts are only like… 2%. The rest, all of it is just happiness and love. He’s the best person I ever dated and I never felt like that. It’s like magic.”

            “God, Harry, you’re so young and stupid. He can’t love you if he hits you like that.”

            “Gemma, he does,” Harry insists. “I was so unhappy when I got back from Europe and Sebastian helped me. He literally makes me wanna get out of bed each morning.”

            “But he _hurts_ you.”

            “I can’t sacrifice my happiness for this.”

            “Harry…”

            “Please don’t tell mom.”

            Gemma nods reluctantly. “It’s not like she’d care anyway.”

            “Thank you,” Harry pulls her into a hug again.

            “Harry, please promise me that you will tell me if he hurts you again, okay? And then you will _have to_ leave him.”

            “I promise,” Harry lies.

            “Okay. I trust you that you will realize what’s going on. You can be happy without him, Harry.”

            “I know,” Harry lies again.

            The thing is, Harry won’t leave Sebastian as long as he has to stay in Manhattan and St. Augustine’s. He was fucking miserable for a long time before he and Sebastian started dating. But even since their first date, Harry has been happier that he’s been in years. He loves him and Sebastian loves him too. Their love brings so much happiness into Harry’s life he couldn’t possibly put it in words. Sebastian is Harry’s safety net in their world full of intrigues, money and expectations. Harry can always rely on the fact that Sebastian is there for him and he’ll kiss him until Harry forgets a bad test, crazy rumour he heard about himself or the letters he has to write for his college applications. He’d rather be with someone who hits him and loves him with his whole heart than someone who’s dating Harry just to bump up their reputation.

            He and Gemma climb up the stairs together and part their ways at the top, her going right and Harry going left. Harry finds Sebastian still awake, lying in the bed with his phone illuminating his face.

            “You’re back,” he smiles at Harry and puts his phone on the bedside table.

            “Yeah. Sorry if I took too long, Gemma went downstairs and we talked for a bit,” Harry says as he strips down to his boxers.

            “What about?” Sebastian asks.

            “Family stuff. We always get sentimental around Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

            He climbs into bed, lying with his back turned to Sebastian. Despite that, he feels Sebastian’s arm snake around his middle and wet kisses on shoulder. Sebastian tries to sneak his hand down Harry’s boxers but Harry catches his wrists before he manages to do so.

            “Not tonight, baby. I know we haven’t seen each other in a few days but let it wait until the morning, yeah?”

            Sebastian pulls his hand away, leaving it around Harry’s middle as he always does.

            “Okay then. Goodnight, babe.”

            “Goodnight.”

            Harry falls asleep thinking about getting into a car, getting a pumpkin pie and driving back to Manhattan where he could eat it in his bed while getting high with people who would never even consider hurting him.

°°°°°

            “I think having sex with you was the best decision I’ve ever made in my whole life.”

            Zayn laughs on the other side of the bed. “With me or just having sex with a guy in general?”

            “Both,” Harry sighs. “A few months ago, I never would’ve said that having someone’s dick inside of you could feel that good.”

            “Jesus, Harry.”

            “What? It’s true! Don’t be a prude while we’re naked in bed and your come is still on my thighs. Actually, could you grab me a tissue from the bedside table?”

            Zayn gives him the whole box and Harry begins with wiping his stomach.

            “We’re so stupid, Haz. I can’t believe you talked me into fucking you without a condom.”

            Harry raises his brows at him. “Are you trying to tell me something with this?”

            “No,” Zayn huffs out an annoyed breath and lays on his side with his cheek propped on his hand, looking down at Harry. It’s been quite some time since they started having sex and Harry is still something taken aback by how hot Zayn is. Bisexuality was another one of his best decisions.

            “It’s just, we’re not exactly virgins. You never know.”

            “Well,” Harry scoffs. “I haven’t seen either of us getting someone pregnant in the past few years and neither you nor I have been with a guy before this. Why are you so worried?”

            “I guess… I guess I just worry sometimes,” Zayn shrugs.

            Harry touches Zayn’s jaw gently and lifts his face up, forcing Zayn took look up from his hands that were playing with the duvet. He gives Zayn a small smile before placing a kiss on his lips.

            “Everything is fine, okay?” Harry says quietly, kissing Zayn once again. “Don’t worry about anything from now on. You’re my best friend and I’d never ask you to do something if I wasn’t sure it was safe. Now tell me what you want for breakfast and you’re not allowed to say me.”

            Zayn laughs and kisses Harry deeper than the pecks before. “How can you always read my mind? I wanted to say just that.”

            “I’m an oracle,” Harry mumbles between kisses. “And stop being so cheesy! We’re sixteen, not forty and married for twenty years!” he pulls away from Zayn with his curious hands that were already trying to make their way down to Harry’s dick and gets out of bed quickly.

            “Haz, come back here,” Zayn whines from the bed. “It’s like… eight in the morning.”

            “Exactly! We’ll have breakfast and then we have all day for doing some stuff.”

            “What can you even do in Hamptons?” Zayn scoffs and buries himself further into the mountain of pillows.

            “Well, first of all, we’re going out to get waffles. And you can’t complain about the choice because you had your chance and you wasted it. Then, we’re going to the beach like everyone does. Just because we have the house for ourselves for the week, it doesn’t mean we’re gonna spend the whole time inside having sex.”

            “Haz, you brought me here under a very false impression.”

            “It’s summer and we’re having _fun._ Fun that doesn’t include us naked in bed.”

            “Are you sure?” Zayn asks and wiggles his brows.

            “Fine!” Harry laughs, hoping his cheeks aren’t bright red. “A little bit of that. But most importantly, we’re having fun doing amazing things here.”

            “Whatever you say, babe.”

            Harry can’t wipe off the smile off his face even in the shower. He knows they won’t last for too long and eventually spend hours upon hours naked in bed. Maybe they should’ve gone to like… Hawaii and taken Lara, Chris and Peyton with them. And they’re probably going to end up doing it anyways so that years from now, they will have some memories of the summer after their freshman year that aren’t just of them naked in bed, tasting each other for days on end.

°°°°°°

            Thanksgiving doesn’t turn out to be a complete disaster. Sebastian charms both Harry’s mom and stepdad, talks to them about law school and politics like a proper adult. He doesn’t say anything more to Harry about those days they didn’t see each other and doesn’t hit him again. In fact, he doesn’t even grip Harry’s wrist or waist once. Gemma still isn’t convinced and spends the whole dinner and the following three days glaring at Sebastian like she’s ready to break his neck at any moment. Harry always desperately begs her with his eyes to stop before Sebastian notices and gets suspicious.

            They also don’t have sex until Saturday and when they do, it’s so gentle Harry thinks he’s dreaming. Sebastian holds Harry’s hands instead of clutching Harry’s waist and he kisses him so lightly over and over again while whispering how much he loves him. And Harry feels like they’ve put all the bad things behind them.

            When they get back to Manhattan, everything goes back to normal, only now they seem to be missing Sebastian’s jealous outbursts. It’s like they were never even there and Sebastian is once again the man Harry was enchanted by in _Trance._ Harry stops feeling anxious when he dances with his friends at parties, the fear that with a badly constructed sentence he’s gonna hear the repugnant sound of Sebastian’s hand hitting his cheek again. He’s relieved because when he told Gemma about it all, it wasn’t with complete confidence. Their conversation took place just minutes after the worst incident with Sebastian and Harry had doubts. Any sane person would. But now Harry’s words are justified because Sebastian still loves him and he hasn’t hurt him since that evening. They’re on the right path now.

            Their ride off into the sunset lasts until December 6th when Zayn throws a St. Nicholas’ Day party.

            Sebastian doesn’t come with Harry since he’s flying out to London in the morning. Harry would never say it out loud but he’s happy to be just with his friends again. The Halloween party was the best one since probably beginning of junior year and this is another party thrown by one of his best friends. So Harry has _fun._ He gets drunk on weird eastern European alcohol, one particularly standing out because it tastes like Christmas and dances to Christmas songs. It’s just like the old times then – the five of them being the life of the party while they nearly ignore everyone else and just simply enjoy each other’s company.

            Harry’s pleasantly buzzed, sitting between Chris and Zayn with an arm thrown around each of their shoulders as they laugh over some crazy story Zayn’s telling about St. Nicholas that he read online and inspired him to throw the party. In that moment Harry’s sixteen again, carefree without any concerns about what’s going to happen in the morning. There’s nothing more than the moment they’re currently in, high and naively happy in the ways only teenagers can be. Just a few minutes later, Harry feels like he’s ready to fall asleep on Zayn’s shoulder when he thinks his name is being said somewhere.

            “Did someone say my name?” Harry groans, his head still pillowed on Zayn’s shoulder and his eyes closed. He’s probably imagining it. Or someone mentioned him in a story. Yeah, that’s probably it.

            “Haz, I think your boyfriend’s here,” Zayn says into Harry’s hair.

            “What? No, he can’t be here,” Harry mutters, still unwilling to open his eyes.

            “Yeah, no, he’s standing right here.”

            “What?” Harry squawks and suddenly he’s wide awake. He sits up properly, pushing an already sleeping Chris off of him in the process.

            And indeed, Sebastian is here. Standing in front of the coffee table that’s littered with glasses, bottles, plates and waterpipes. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks angry.

            “Baby, I didn’t know you’d come!” Harry exclaims, trying to sound cheerful.

            “Clearly,” Sebastian snaps. “Come with me right now.”

            Harry stands up on wobbly legs and follows Sebastian who’s already striding towards the hallway. The walks into the den and Harry follows him, his heart already beating like a four-hundred-year-old church bell. But Harry walks in with a nervous smile because he knows Sebastian won’t hurt him. That brief period of their relationship is over. It’s done, gone, locked in a chest that they will never open again.

            “What’s going on, babe?” Harry asks hesitantly once the door is closed. There are a few feet between them, with Sebastian standing by the pool table and Harry with him back almost touching the wall next to the door.

            “What’s going on?” Sebastian repeats, his face as blank as a statue. Harry really wishes he could read minds right now. But he doesn’t need to because in a slip of a second, Sebastian’s hands are on Harry’s shoulders and his back and cranium hits the wall so forcefully he’s scared something’s broken. Sebastian starts shouting his thoughts almost right into Harry’s ear, no mind reading needed.

            “Who the fuck do you think you are to make a fucking fool out of me, huh? Lying on a couch between two men like a common whore! I came here to say goodbye because I’m going to be gone for a week and I find out not only that my boyfriend is at his ex’s party but is nearly making out with him in the middle of the living room. Not to mention Chris fucking sleeping on you! What do you have to say about that, _sweetheart?”_

Harry whimpers as he tries to push himself off the wall but Sebastian’s grip is too strong and Harry’s too drunk to gather enough strength to get Sebastian off him.

            “What was that babe?” Sebastian drawls and with one more push to Harry’s shoulders, he lets him go.

            Harry thinks it’s the first time he breathes ever since he closed the door to this room.

            “They’re my best friends, Sebastian. You can’t tell me not to go to my friends’ parties.”

            “Oh?” Sebastian chuckles coldly. “I can’t tell my boyfriend not to hang out with his ex?”

            “No, you can’t.”

            Harry expects a blow to his cheek but it doesn’t come. It doesn’t even when Harry lifts his eyes off the floor and looks at Sebastian, surprised to find him motionlessly staring at Harry.

            “Alright then,” Sebastian says, his voice like roaring thunder before a storm. “We’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”

            Harry gasps out a sob. That can’t be fucking happening. He feels the whole room spinning around him, the floor vanishing from under his feet. No, no, no, no. Sebastian _can’t leave_ , he can’t do it. There’s no way. His mind instantly offers Harry images of him crying after Belle’s party, of the fucking never-ending void that was in his chest before Sebastian came into his life and made every single thing a million times better. Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do without him. Sebastian can’t leave because Harry’s going to be a fucking mess. He can’t do this on his own, he just can’t. He refuses to go back to faking smiles every single day and never being himself. Constantly switching between these fucking projections of himself that people have conjured up in their minds and expect Harry to be them. Harry can’t go back to falling asleep alone every single night.

            He needs to at least try to keep Sebastian from breaking up with him. There must be something he can do because Sebastian is his harbour in the wild sea that is Manhattan and Harry will drown without him.

            “Please, don’t leave me. I won’t do it again, I promise baby. Just… I need you. You’re upset with me, I know. Please… I love you,” Harry whimpers. Tears are clouding his vision, making everything in the dark room seem like a kaleidoscope of blacks and dark blues. He feels dull pain throbbing through his body, through his chest, head, face and he isn’t certain about its source. His skin is burning and the desperation that flows through his veins is setting his body on fire.

            “I don’t believe you.”

            The harshness of the voice coming from the closed door of the dark room wracks out a sob out of Harry.

            “You have to,” Harry breathes out and lifts his ass off the pool table he was leaning against, walking towards Sebastian in the dark. Harry tries to hold his cheek but all he gets is a firm hand wrapped around his wrist, so familiar his heart jumps in his chest.

            “Do you fucking swear you’re mine?”

            Harry nods vigorously.

            The door echoes with a knock and a voice follows it. “Harry, are you okay? Lara said she saw you come in here.”

            Harry’s heart starts pounding as if it was trying to escape his ribcage. The grip on his wrist only tightens.

            “Harry, please don’t fuck on my dad’s pool table, he’s gonna murder me,” Zayn moans behind the door.

            Harry’s a deer in the headlights that are Sebastian’s eyes. His hands are shaking and Sebastian’s grip is only getting tighter.

            “I’m leaving. I’ll call you when I land,” Sebastian says, no emotion painting his face or voice. He drops Harry’s hand and walks to the door.

            “We’re still going to the Winter Ball together, right?” Harry asks, the words coming out so quickly he nearly trips over them.

            Sebastian looks at him, hid hand gripping the knob, still so cold and detached. “Yes, we are.”

            Then he storms out of the door, leaving Harry alone. Harry’s lungs finally fill with air as he sits on the pool table, his legs nearly giving out under his weight. A tear rolls down his cheek as he stares at the floor and thinks whether it’s all worth it.

            “Hey Harry, are you okay?” Zayn asks from the door, leaning against one of its wings.

            Harry quickly wipes his cheek. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

            “Sebastian looked quite angry before he stormed off. You guys are okay?”

            Harry scoffs and stands up, walking to the door. “Why wouldn’t we be? We’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Excuse me, I’m gonna get drunk.”

            Before Harry can leave, Zayn catches his wrist in the doorway. It’s the one Sebastian held just a few minutes before and Harry winces, biting his tongue as soon as he does. Zayn gives him a wide-eyed look, noticing the red marks looping around Harry’s wrist and Harry snatches his arm way.

            “What the fuck did he do to you, Harry?” Zayn asks, the same concern as Gemma’s lacing his voice. Harry feels a spark of anger at everyone trying to meddle with his relationship.

            “Don’t try to fucking dissect my relationship, okay? You don’t know shit about me and Sebastian so mind your fucking business.”

            “I’m not going to mind my fucking business when I can see marks on your wrist seconds after your boyfriend leaves and you clearly just had a fight. Don’t think I haven’t noticed it before. And it’s not just your wrists, you had a bruise on your face after Thanksgiving and believe me that the concealer didn’t cover it up as well as you thought.”

            Harry clenches his teeth, his breathing and heart beat rapidly accelerating. “This is none of your business. It’s between Sebastian and I.”

            Zayn scoffs and shakes his head. “When is it going to be your friends’ business? When he starts beating you up so bad you’ll be paying visits to the hospital a few times a week?”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry retorts and stalks away in search of a full bottle of any alcohol. He grabs a bottle of vodka in the living room and hides in the dining room, sitting on the ground near the floor-length window.

            Harry’s angry at first, furiously drinking the bitter liquid straight from the bottle as he curses Gemma and Zayn out in his head because they don’t fucking understand. They couldn’t possibly understand that Harry would be a fucking wreck by now if he and Sebastian hadn’t started dating. Bruises and pain don’t matter to Harry because he’d much rather go through this than spend every night after a party fucking crying in his bed. It’s not just about their relationship because Harry can be single. He loves being single even, enjoys hooking up with people and leaving in the morning without any bad blood between them. It’s about how Sebastian affects Harry’s whole life in the most positive way. He’s Harry’s confidant, his friend and his lover. Over the few months they’ve been together, they have become a unit, two people in love in their owl little bubble where they’re so happy they could choke with it.

            As the vodka progressively disappears from the bottle and Harry gets drunker, his idiotic brain starts to tell him to get emotional over Gemma and Zayn worrying about him. It must have been shocking for them to see Harry, someone they care about, with bruises on him that were inflicted by his boyfriend. Gemma referred to it as abuse but Harry doesn’t really perceive it as such. He probably should though. Or at least fight back. Just because Sebastian brought heaps of happiness into Harry’s life it doesn’t mean he can make him miserable too. They will have to talk about it without any sugar coating because Harry can’t bear to have Sebastian leave him. He just can’t.

            But then he wonders what would happen if Sebastian did leave. Would he be as miserable as he used to be? Would he be relieved there’s no longer the threat of being hurt just for saying something or hugging his friend? Could he navigate the entangled labyrinth of Manhattan’s party scene on his own as he once used to? Sebastian gave Harry the catalyst for finally staying true to himself. Well, at least to some extent. Harry doesn’t switch between personas with every person he talks to anymore. But could he keep it up after if Sebastian left?

            Fuck it, he could. Because on the floor of Zayn’s dining room, Harry realizes one very crucial thing – Sebastian hasn’t been the only person making him happy. Harry had some of the best times in years at his friends’ parties this fall. _Without_ Sebastian. Happiness isn’t exclusively interwoven with Sebastian’s presence in Harry’s life. He’s not alone, even when Sebastian’s gone. He has Lara, Peyton, Chris. After a very long period of time caused by Harry’s nonsense, Zayn’s back in his life too. The ‘ _Fab Five’_ is back together and Harry’s always been the happiest when they were together.

            Harry read once about the different types of love according to ancient Greeks. Friendship, or philia, is the most important once. And it must be true because a friend is sometimes so much more than a lover. But it’s still not enough for him. Not compared to what he has with Sebastian.

            The bottle’s getting dangerously emptier and Harry’s lying on the floor, his eyes fixed on a ceiling. He lets his head drop on the side then, his gaze now on the dining table and he has to laugh because he’s hit with the memory of having sex on that table with Zayn a very long time ago. They were literally crazy back then. It was like some kind of a spell they were under where they couldn’t get enough of each other. Harry wonders why they didn’t date. Of course, he’s aware that _he_ didn’t want to, not Zayn. Which is stupid because Harry was crazy about him. But then again, they were best friends and best friends don’t date. They also don’t have sex but that memo kind of missed them by a lot more than a mile. God, Harry wanted Zayn _so bad_ it used to drive him mad but they couldn’t just start dating, could they? No matter how great it was to be together, just the two of them, it wouldn’t have lasted. They were young and stupid, they would’ve ended up thinking they’re in love and be one of those annoying couples that go to college together and shit.

            And _Jesus fucking Christ._ Harry sits up suddenly, his head spinning like a carousel gone wild. They _were_ in love. They were in fucking love and Harry’s stupid sixteen-year-old brain didn’t want to admit it. Harry realizes it now, two years too late in his drunken stupor. It took him falling in love again with someone else to realize. How could have he been so stupid not to see it? Is he always this blind to everything around him?

            Harry takes a big gulp of vodka, nearly wincing. He stands up with a great support from the window and leaves the dining room, this time with the help of the fabulous wall. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried but he has a sudden urge to find Zayn and talk to him. They’re in the same penthouse so it shouldn’t be too hard. He walks around a few passed out people, checks if Chris sleeping on the couch is still alive and goes upstairs, which feels like Mount Everest to him right now but Harry manages it and claps for himself when he makes it.

            His legs lead him straight to Zayn’s bedroom because where else could he be? It’s a room Harry hasn’t been in in ages. It feels strange as his hand is on the handle, entering a room he used to spend countless afternoons and nights in after almost two years. He walks in with all the grace of a baby giraffe, although much louder. Harry sees Zayn asleep in his bed, nearly hidden in the nest of pillows and duvets.

            “Zayn, wake up,” Harry says as he slams the door behind himself.

            Zayn stirs in his sleep and groans a few seconds later. Harry walks to the bed, crawling on it to the other side that Zayn’s occupying. He shakes his shoulder when he sees Zayn’s closed eyes.

            “Zayn,” Harry whines as he tries to lightly slap Zayn’s cheek but he just ends up holding it. “Wake up, don’t be annoying. I need to talk to you.”

            Zayn finally opens his eyes, squinting up at Harry with a frown. “Harry? What the fuck are you doing here?”

            “I need to talk to you.”

            “Why?”

            “I just- I just do okay? Can you please sit up because I feel like I’m gonna throw up when I’m looking down and I really don’t wanna throw up all over you and your bed.”

            Zayn sits up promptly, well, as promptly as his clearly drunken body allows him.

            “I was in the dining room, getting drunk on Russian Standard,” Harry starts explaining. “I was there on the floor, just drinking the vodka like a prat because I was angry at you because you care about me. Actually, I think I might have alcohol poisoning but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

            Harry pauses, sighing and looking at Zayn’s confused face for a few seconds. He’s always been so fucking pretty. He’s beautiful even when he’s drunk off his ass and staring at Harry, who’s even drunker and who has no idea where he’s going with his speech.

            “So, I was lying on the floor,” Harry continues. “Just thinking about everything. About Gemma and you worrying about me. About me and Sebastian. And then I looked at the table and I started laughing because I remembered how we fucked there once. Do you remember?”

            Zayn laughs, nodding his head softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, Haz.”

            “So then I started thinking about you and me. Just… about everything that we did together. How stupid I was for not wanting to date you for real. But I think… I think that you were my boyfriend. Because people- people don’t sleep together for over a year and not feel… something, yeah?”

            Harry’s eyes are wet and there are tears on his cheeks. He didn’t even notice when he started crying.

            “And then… then I told you I hated you when I should’ve said ‘ _I love you’_ instead,” Harry says and the first sob follows it. He can’t help it as he wraps his arms around Zayn’s shoulders and hides his face in his neck.

            “Haz, it’s okay,” Zayn whispers as he strokes his back but Harry just shakes his head, tears still falling down on Zayn’s skin.

            “It’s not okay. I’m drunk now, otherwise I wouldn’t be saying all this. But we… we were in love and I ruined that. I didn’t think you could fall in love at sixteen but fucking hell, I felt so happy around you? It wasn’t just the sex because I loved being with you, no matter what we were doing. We could’ve been doing homework in silence and I was still so fucking happy because we were together.”

            Harry wants to lift his head up but he can’t face Zayn while he says this. But he needs to. He has to finally deal with all those things he’s been denying in his head, in his heart for years.

            “You were so good to me, Z. So good. I never deserved you. You never yelled at me, you didn’t even when I accused you of that horrible thing. Anyone else would’ve probably punched me and kicked me out of their place. Lara would’ve actually kicked me out of the window. But you didn’t. And you never hit me. Well, only when I asked you but that was in a kinky way. Sebastian hits me in a completely different way but I know you would never do that.”

            “Haz,” Zayn says softly and Harry allows him to pull him away from his chest so they can look at each other. “Why don’t you just leave him?”

            “I- I can’t.”

            “Is he threatening you?”

            “No, of course he’s not. It’s because he loves me.”

            “Harry-“

            “I need to do something,” Harry interrupts him. “And we’re never going to mention it after tonight, okay? It stays inside this room between you and me and it doesn’t mean anything.”

            “What are you-“

            Harry slams his lips to Zayn’s before he can finish the sentence. He grabs Zayn’s face in his hands and closes his eyes, waiting for Zayn to reciprocate the kiss. And he does. At first, it’s slow, exploratory as they embrace the feeling of their lips touching after nearly two years. But then their tongues touch and it’s like no time has passed at all, the sudden surge of passion encompassing them as their tongues explore each other’s mouths. And god does it feel fucking brilliant. They can’t stop and Harry wishes he wasn’t drunk for this. He just hopes he’ll remember it in the morning.

            His heart aches at how familiar Zayn’s lips still are. It truly almost tricks him into thinking they’re sixteen again and soon they will be naked, fucking until the sun rises above Manhattan. But that isn’t the reality. Maybe unfortunately, maybe thankfully. Harry’s with Sebastian but he’s not kissing him right now. But Harry had to do this. It was a burning feeling in his chest that couldn’t let him rest so kissed Zayn. Just once. Just a taste of what used to be.

            It all ends too soon as Harry pulls back, pulling Zayn in and hiding his face in Zayn’s shoulder again.

            “You alright?” Zayn asks quietly.

            No. No, he isn’t.

            “Yeah,” Harry replies. “I have to go.”

            “You can sleep over. There may be an empty guestroom and if not, we can share.”

            “No, I really can’t,” Harry pulls away with a sigh, not touching Zayn anymore as he looks at his face, his lips red from kissing. “I’m gonna go. I’ll catch a taxi home. If I stayed the night I might do something just because I’m drunk and then I’ll regret it in the morning. I can’t do that.”

            “Okay,” Zayn nods, looking down at his hands.

            “Goodnight. And thank you,” Harry says as he clumsily gets out of Zayn’s bed.

            “You’re welcome. Goodnight. And be safe.”

            Harry turns around at the door, giving Zayn a small smile that’s not really happy. “I will.”

°°°°°

            “Excuse me, Ms. Hollingsworth. It was pleasure talking to you.”

            Harry flashes the group of old ladies in Chanel suits a smile and stalks away, aiming for the door leading out of the ballroom. It’s quite disturbing how old ladies are always infatuated with him. His mom said it’s the curls.

            But Harry forgets them within seconds because his mind is back on the sight he saw just a few seconds ago – Zayn biting his bottom lip from across the ballroom, his eyes never leaving Harry’s as he nodded at the door. And Harry’s only human so naturally, as soon as he stopped following Zayn’s back with his eyes, he said his goodbyes and made a beeline for the door.

            Zayn’s waiting for him behind a corner, grabbing Harry’s hand and leading him somewhere deeper into the building.

            “My, my. You have no self-control at all,” Harry chuckles.

            “Well, you shouldn’t have worn those pants,” Zayn grins at him over his shoulder.

            They stop in a hallway that’s sparsely illuminated, with doors leading to rooms that can only be entered by staff and they really don’t care about some waiters seeing them.      

            Harry finds himself pushed against the wall, Zayn’s tongue in his mouth and his legs between Harry’s. It’s always exciting to make out in a hallway, but there’s something about them in hotels that makes it almost illicit and forbidden. Like they’re Romeo and Juliet hiding from the sight of their feuding families. Their situation couldn’t be further away from that love story since their parents would most likely be happy about them being together.

            They spend about fifteen minutes there, their bodies pressed together and their lips almost never not touching. It’s been about two months since they first kissed, first had sex and Harry can’t get enough of it. Although they sleep together at least three times a week, they’re not dating. Harry deems it pointless since they’re best friends. He doesn’t need Zayn to take him out for dinner and bring him flowers to convince Harry that he’s a decent person. They’ve known each other since they were in middle school and the need for dates just isn’t there with them. Harry knows what’s Zayn’s favourite movie, colour and all of that shit that people talk about on dates. Besides, if they dated and broke up it’d make everything tragically awkward, not only with Lara, Peyton and Chris but also with literally all of Manhattan. This way, if they decide to stop having sex with each other, they can just stop and not ruin their friendship.

            They separate once they’re in the ballroom again and Harry flops down at his seat, downing two glasses of champagne while checking his phone.

            “Hiya.”

            Harry lifts up his head from the phone and sees Peyton sitting down two chairs away from him. He gives her a small as she stretches her legs out on the empty chairs between them.

            “Hey, P. What’s up?”

            “My feet are _killing_ me,” she groans, taking off her stiletto sandals and putting them on the floor. “Also, my mom is so fucking drunk, I’ve never seen her like this before. She just told me she saw you and _Zayn_ making out in the hallway. Like? What’s up with that?”

            “Um,” Harry chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his neck. “We were making out. I guess we didn’t notice her.”

            Peyton raises her brows. Then she starts laughing.

            “God, Harry, you’re so funny! Stop this. You and Zayn making out, god, you can really make a joke out of every stupid little thing.”

            Harry laughs along awkwardly, waiting for Peyton to stop literally wheezing over it.

            “Peyton, I’m serious. We were literally making out in the hallway like… twenty minutes ago,” Harry says.

            Peyton’s face falls. “Are you trying to trick me into believing you and then you and Zayn will make fun for me for two months?”

            “Nope,” Harry shakes his head. “We’ve been sleeping together since like… October?”

            Peyton continues to gape at him, her mouth open, stuck in a silent gasp.

            “Wait, you guys didn’t know?”

            Peyton shakes her head. “We had no idea you two were… gay, less alone knew that you were dating.”

            “We’re not gay, we’re bi. Also, we’re not dating.”

            Peyton blinks a few times. “I’m confused.”

            “We both wanted to try sex with a guy, we tried it together and we liked it so we continue to do it,” Harry shrugs.

            “That’s so… weird. You and Zayn? Really?”

            “Yup,” Harry nods with a small grin. He doesn’t understand why Peyton’s being so weird about this. It’s just sex.

            “Well,” she sighs. “You two are always full of surprises.”

            Harry just shrugs. He supposes they are.

°°°°°

            The week when Sebastian’s in London, Harry decides to stay home from school. Have some time for himself, away from everyone. Maybe wallow in sadness for a bit, play the guitar, watch a season of a TV show. Everyone needs to treat themselves sometimes and rest far away from all the stressful things.

            So Harry tells his mom he’s feeling a bit sick, that he felt like he had fever so he wants to stay home in order to be in a great shape for the Winter Ball. Of course, she just says ‘ _Oh, my poor boy’_ and without even checking his forehead if he really has fever or not, she tells him to go lie down and relax. And Harry prepares himself for a few days of solitude.

            He doesn’t really talk to anyone, only to their housekeeper and cook Cathy, and that’s only when he wants some food or tea. The group chat gets a lengthy text about how Harry’s feeling shit and that they can’t visit him so they don’t catch anything before the Ball. He ignores all of their calls, only sending 3-5 texts a day to the group chat to prevent them all from thinking Harry’s on the brink of death or already in the morgue.

            Harry tries not to worry about where his relationship with Sebastian stands but he’s terribly unsuccessful. Sebastian calls him from London only once, saying he’s landed and that they’ll see each other when he picks Harry up for the ball. At least that’s settled and Sebastian doesn’t sound too hostile. But thanks to Harry’s philosophical thinking about his whole life fuelled by Russian Standard, the idea of them breaking up doesn’t completely terrify him. He doesn’t want them to break up, not at all but if it was the only option, Harry thinks he could make it on his own. Well, with his friends too. Sebastian is still his harbour of happiness and Harry doesn’t wanna let go of him. It’d be painful.

            Another thing Harry tries to keep his mind off of is kissing Zayn again. It was a mistake. Harry’s in a great relationship, even though they do have some problems. Sebastian still loves him and Harry would never ever cheat on him. One kiss isn’t cheating after all. Harry was drunk off his ass and was feeling things he probably shouldn’t. Or more like, things he’d never feel without the help of a bottle of vodka. He can’t deny that it was nice. Considering the level of alcohol in their blood. They used to kiss every single day once upon a time and it was a little piece of this warm nostalgia that Harry will keep close to his heart but never repeat. Maybe it was closure. He and Zayn didn’t end their romantic past on the best note.

            Over the days filled with Netflix and too many pastries eaten in bed, Harry tries to come to terms with the fact that Sebastian isn’t the first person Harry truly, really loved. In hindsight, it’s quite distressing how blind Harry was. It’s years too late now but Harry remembers the warm fuzzy feeling in his belly, the butterflies when they used to kiss. A remnant of it made an appearance when Harry kissed Zayn after the party. Back then, Harry used to think it was just arousal, his body naturally reacting to kissing someone attractive who was also really good at it. But at eighteen, he realizes he fell in love with Zayn at sixteen and sex wasn’t the only culprit responsible.

            Some months after they started having sex, they found themselves hanging out without Lara, Peyton and Chris quite often. Those butterflies were still present even when they went to see superhero films that Harry always slept through or when they visited a few art galleries with mostly art students’ works. Back then, Harry tried his hardest to deny there were feelings between them, that what was going on was an actual relationship. Everyone knew they were together anyways thanks to them not being able to keep their hands to themselves at parties and sometimes at school too. Anyone who didn’t know them that well thought they were dating but sixteen-year-old Harry just shrugged and moved on with his day.

            His relationship with Zayn is long gone but it feels cathartic to finally acknowledge it. Yes, they were dating. Yes, they were in love. Yes, it’s all in the past. Harry’s happy to be friends with Zayn again and that their every interaction isn’t filled with awkward laughs and a dark cloud of their past hanging over their head. Although Harry’s quite glad he doesn’t have to see Zayn immediately after the kiss. There is a chance thing will be awkward _now_ and avoiding finding out as long as he can, sounds like a great plan.

            Harry has six blissful days of peace and solitude before the St. Augustine’s Winter Ball. He learns how to play a new song on the guitar, watches a season of American Horror Story and even attempts to write an essay for his Columbia application. When Friday comes at last, Harry feels well rested albeit still quite anxious about his relationship with Sebastian. But Harry’s determined to make it an amazing night nevertheless. It’s his last Winter Ball at St. Augustine and he won’t let anything ruin it.

            In the afternoon, he spends quite some time chain smoking on the roof terrace in his pyjamas and a fur coat but he repeats to himself over and over that it’s gonna be fine. Sebastian will pick him up, kiss him stupid and they’ll have fun. Then they’re gonna spend a wonderful night full of sex in the hotel where the Ball takes place like all of Harry’s classmates will and the seniors before them did. It’s an unspoken tradition, one that Harry couldn’t wait for ever since his freshman year.

            Harry puts on a light blue Calvin Klein suit, to stay within the theme of “Gorgeous Icicles”. The Ball has a long tradition, the themes only get more and more ridiculous each year because there’s only so many interesting things that are connected to winter and snow. Harry’s hair looks pretty good and before 5PM, he smokes only once since his lengthy session on the roof. No one’s home as he leaves the house and waits for Sebastian’s limo outside. His coat is suddenly paper thin because he’s shaking like it’s Antarctica and not the middle of Manhattan. Or it’s his nerves but Harry doesn’t even want to think about that option. He’s calm, cool and collected and will remain so throughout the whole night.

            Sebastian is only two minutes late and Harry tries his hardest to slap on a smile. When he opens the back door and sees Sebastian smiling at him with two glasses of champagne in his hands, Harry starts to feel the anxiety falling off of him. He slides into the back seat, accepting the glass and a hasty kiss that Sebastian smacks on his lips even before he says ‘ _Hello’._

            “I missed you so much,” Sebastian whispers into Harry’s lips and kisses him again. Harry reaches blindly to grab his cheek then sliding his hand to Sebastian’s hair.

            “I missed you too,” Harry says breathlessly once they pull apart.

            “I love you. When I was in London I realized that I really don’t want to leave you. But, fuck Harry, you make me crazy. You drive me crazy sometimes and I _hate_ seeing you with others guys and I can’t control myself. You’re perfect. I love you. And-“

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Harry stops Sebastian’s rambling. He holds Sebastian’s cheek carefully and looks at him, Sebastian’s eyes blown out and glassy.

            “You’re high already? What did you take, Sebastian?” Harry asks cautiously.

            Sebastian chuckles and leans away until Harry’s hand drops from his face. “Just did a line or two. Some pills. The usual _menu_ for official school parties when I saw a senior. Don’t worry babe, it’s just to get myself in the high school spirit again, yeah?”

            “But you haven’t done drugs in ages,” Harry says, trying to ignore the way his heart rate accelerates.

            “It’s just a little nostalgia, Harry. Next time I do, it it’ll probably be for your prom. It just reminds me of my own high school days.”

            Harry chooses to down the glass of champagne instead.

            High Sebastian is the big unknown to Harry. He has no idea what to expect and he tries to school the anxiety raging through him from a huge monster trying to consume him to a tiny parasite. Harry will pull on a mask tonight if he has to, his precise fake smiles too because fuck knows in what state will Sebastian be in a few hours. He’ll smile, take yearbook photos and will be charming enough for himself and his boyfriend who’s high out if his mind.

            They arrive to the hotel shortly, Sebastian complaining about London weather and people the whole ride. Harry nods, indulges Sebastian by letting him pet Harry’s thigh the whole time although Harry wants nothing more than slap his hand off and scream at him to get the fuck home so Harry can enjoy the night with his friends and classmates without worrying about him. But he can’t because he doesn’t know if High Sebastian won’t break his nose or make his lip bleed. Harry also doesn’t want to have Sebastian break up with him on the night of the Winter Ball. Sebastian’s idiotic choice to get fucked up even before the Ball starts won’t ruin the night Harry looked forward to ever since he was fucking fourteen.

            Harry walks inside with Sebastian clutching his hand a bit too tightly but Harry focuses on the good thing. Nearby the ballroom door, right next to the photo wall with cheesy wintery decorations Harry spots Lara, Chris, Peyton and Zayn, all of them standing there. Lara see him first and waves at him, gesturing for him to come there. Harry feels an overwhelming sense of relief when he sees them and drops Sebastian’s hand as fast as he can to go to them.

            “You all look so fucking good, I have the hottest friends ever. I love you all,” Harry instead of a normal greeting, his dazzling Harry Edward Styles smile in place.

            “Harry, shut your damn mouth before I dump Lincoln and start dating you, you charming bastard,” Lara snickers into his ear as she hugs. Harry pulls away with a kiss on her cheek, repeating the same routine with Peyton and Chris, even though Chris scoffs at him kissing his cheek, but it’s always been like that for years and Harry would think something was wrong if Chris wasn’t pretending like Harry’s affectionate gestures are annoying him.

            Harry stops in his tracks when he reaches Zayn because frankly, he loses his breath. But Harry suddenly remembers the kiss from the party and shakes his head to clear his mind. He can’t think about those things tonight.

            “You’re one beautiful motherfucker, Zayn,” Harry says seriously and hugs him, smelling the Gucci cologne that once used to drive Harry crazy. “Who are you with today? A supermodel?”

            “Yeah sure, Adriana Lima is waiting for me inside the ballroom,” Zayn laughs when they pull away. “In this pitiful reality, I’m here with Grace Fitzgerald.”

            Harry tries to school his face back into his famous grin and not let the surprise show. “I… uh- I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

            “We’re not dating, not quite. It’s just the senior tradition of taking someone up into a hotel room. She’s quite nice and we were both single so.”

            “Right,” Harry nods slowly.

            “Harry’s friends, good evening!”

            Harry flinches at the sound of Sebastian’s hollering and takes his forgotten hand off of Zayn’s shoulder. With a strained smile, he turns to Sebastian and grabs his hand.

            “Babe, let’s go inside yeah?” Harry tries with a positive lilt to his voice.

            “Why?” Sebastian look at Harry with a cold smile and piercing eyes. “You were hugging them and laughing with them a second ago. I don’t think you want to leave.”

            Harry’s face falls and his body freezes.

            “Oh, get out of our sight, you lovebirds!” Lara exclaims suddenly. “And Sebastian, you have _a lot_ to learn about our Harry if you don’t know he’s like a baby koala sometimes. Now, off you go!”

            “A baby koala?” Harry asks, neglecting the increasingly tightening grip on his hand where Sebastian’s pulling him into the ballroom after all.

            “Yes, and we love you so, so much,” Lara grins at him.

            Harry gives her what he thinks is his last genuine smile of the night.

            But maybe Harry’s guardian angel is standing beside him or he’s just lucky because after the initial introduction and speech from the principal, and the first couples dance, Sebastian’s jealousy disappears and so does he. Peyton brought Cameron as her date after months of persuasion and him disappearing with Sebastian turns her into a grumpy little monster of anger. But Lara, always the saviour in terrible social situations, feeds her shots and a pill, takes her to the dance floor and everything’s sunshine and rainbows again. Thanks to Sebastian’s and Cameron’s disappearance, Lara _gently_ enforces code red again, _gently_ forcing Zayn and Chris to ditch their dates. Lincoln, or Dick as his closest friends like to call him because his first name is Richard, isn’t even phased or bothered by this because he graduated last year and he and Lara have been dating long enough to attend dozens of Balls together anyways. He actually grins at Lara and kisses her after thanking her for not making him dance to ‘ _that godawful music’_ all night.

            So what Harry thought would be a terrible night full of Sebastian’s jealousy and Harry fearing he’s gonna hit him, doesn’t turn out so awful. It’s another night for him and his friends, the ‘ _Fab Five’_ dancing and laughing together as if they were sixteen again. They do get drunk off their asses but they’re seniors and besides prom, this is their fucking night. They’ll never be as young as they are in this moment and they get pretty fucking sentimental. At least two hours are spent at a table, all of them drinking and cackling at old memories before making fools out of themselves on the dance floor again. They talk about the time Chris tried calling strippers to his 16 th birthday party only to accidentally send them to his neighbours’ place and then Peyton had to talk them out of calling the police. The time when Harry and Chris almost got arrested in Mexico doesn’t go unmentioned and they all start making fun of Chris, _deeply_ philosophising over how is it possible he hasn’t been actually arrested yet. It’s just the five of them and it’s perfect.

            It’s after 1AM when Harry plummets into a chair at the table they claimed theirs and whines. Zayn’s sitting on the chair next to Harry, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone.

            “You done for tonight, Haz?” Zayn asks when he puts his phone away.

            “Yeah, I think so. I forgot how exhausting balls are.”

            “It was a great night, though.”

            “It was,” Harry agrees. He lifts his legs up to an empty chair next to him and stays silent for a while. After a few moments, he leans his head on Zayn’s shoulder just like at the party a week ago. It’s good, sitting there like that with dance music and the chatter of their classmates surrounding them. It’s a coming-of-age movie moment only Zayn isn’t the supposed love of his life that he declined his college scholarship for or whatever happens in the name of love in those movies. But Harry’s genuinely happy and he doesn’t give a fuck. He doesn’t give a fuck where Sebastian is or what he’s doing because he fucking ditched him on a night like this. Harry’s sure it’s just the alcohol talking but he feels like hitting Sebastian for it, giving him a taste of his own medicine. Fortunately for Sebastian, Harry doesn’t believe in violence so instead of ranting about how shitty Sebastian was tonight or crying over it, Harry basks in the temporary happiness of this night.

            “Remember how we once talked about what’s going to happen to us all after college?” Harry asks. Zayn’s leaning his cheek against Harry’s head and Harry thinks he feels him smile.

            “Of course, I do. We were in Brooklyn, eating fries at like two in the morning.”

            “Do you think we’ll make it?” Harry asks. They both know what’s Harry asking.

            “I do,” Zayn says so quietly Harry barely hears him.

            “I held your hand that night, remember?”

            “I remember.”

            Harry takes a shuddering breath. “I kissed you too.”

            “I know. I kissed you back.”

            “Then you said that you hoped I got my shit together and wanted to ask you to date for real. But I didn’t. And Zayn, please believe me when I say that it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

            “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

            “Maybe there is,” Harry says without thinking.

            “What?”

            _I kiss you again and we’ll go upstairs. I tell you that I loved you more than anything in the world and that I feel like I could love you like that again if you just asked._

“Nothing,” Harry says instead. He’s drunk. This has to be the alcohol talking, just like how the stupid vodka made him kiss Zayn last week.

            “Haz, you’re just feeling nostalgic because of tonight. You have Sebastian now, you have to stop saying stuff like this when you’re drunk.”

            “Okay,” Harry mumbles. “But where is he? I’m not that drunk to not know that my head is currently on your shoulder and not his.”

            “What do you want me to say, Haz? That you should break up with him? Is that it?”

            “Maybe I want you to do something.”

            “Harry.”

            Harry’s phone then starts vibrating in his chest pocket. He fishes it out and sees that it’s Sebastian.

            “What?” Harry says after picking up.

            “ _Baby, come upstairs, please.”_

Harry scoffs. “Where were you the whole night?”

            “ _Just here and there with Cam. Please, come upstairs I want you.”_

 _“_ Well, you should’ve thought about that before you left me.”

            “ _I’ll make up for it. Please. Baby, at least give me a chance to make it up to you.”_

            “Why?” Harry asks, his heart beating so hard as if it was a bird trying to break free out of Harry’s ribcage. This might me the end of them. Sebastian can easily throw his temper tantrum and tell Harry to fuck off.

            “ _Because it’s the night of your senior Winter Ball. And I know you care about this. I promised you I’ll be there and I’m sorry I wasn’t. Just come upstairs and we’ll have a great time, yeah?”_

            “Sebastian I’m very upset with you,” Harry says petulantly.

            “ _I love you, Harry. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again, I swear.”_

Harry bites his bottom lip, contemplating it. He knows Sebastian will fuck up again but one more night is just one more night. It’s better to sleep on decisions like this anyways. Regretting breaking up with Sebastian with tears and hours spent dissociating in bed wouldn’t help Harry at all.

            “Fine,” Harry says after a few seconds. “What room are you in?”

            “ _303\. I love you, see you upstairs,”_ Sebastian hangs up before Harry can say anything.

            Harry gets his head off of Zayn’s shoulder and stands up slowly.

            “Haz,” Zayn says.

            “Yeah?” Harry looks at him, Zayn now in the same position with his legs kicked up as Harry was just seconds ago.

            “Be careful. I know you love him but don’t let him hurt you. You don’t have to deny it, I talked to Gemma.”

            Harry feels a pang in his heart. He takes a sharp breath, unsure what to say. His heart is racing as he bends down and places a fleeting kiss on Zayn’s cheekbone. Then he leaves without looking back.

            He finds the door to room 303 unlocked and Sebastian lying down in the middle of the bed in just his boxers. He jumps off the bed when he sees Harry, catching his lips in a kiss before Harry has the chance to even walk halfway through the room.

            “I wanted to fuck you even since I first saw you today,” Sebastian grunts and pushes Harry’s suit jacket off his shoulders. Harry doesn’t protest. This is the final piece of his perfect senior Winter Ball puzzle. Just a few more hours and the night will be over.

            Harry lets Sebastian undress him but he doesn’t feel any excitement. Sebastian’s hand on his cock is just… there, mildly warm and fleshy. He kisses Harry’s mouth, his neck and once they’re on the bed his whole body but Harry feels nothing at all. Maybe it’s because he’s too drunk for it.

            He lays there as Sebastian whispers ‘ _you’re mine’_ over and over again but Harry’s mind is not there. He can’t bring himself to his Sebastian properly, to even touch him. There’s just nothing at all and Harry’s heart start racing once his mind makes the connection between the feeling of emptiness from when they had sex after Sebastian hit him for the first time and now. Is everything catching up to Harry now? Why is he the most rational when he’s so drunk he can barely walk?

            The emptiness is replaced by anger once Sebastian flips him over and starts to fuck him. The grunted _you’re-mines_ are replaced by ‘ _you’re my little slut’, ‘you take me like a fucking porn star, baby’,_ things Harry never wants to hear when he’s having sex with the person who told him he loved him moments before. But he clenches his teeth, ignoring the pain of Sebastian fucking into him harder than before and saves the anger for later.

            In the haze of numbness and anger, Sebastian manages to make Harry come despite all of it.

            When he comes, Harry says “I hate you.”.

            “What the fuck did you just say?” Sebastian asks as he gets off the bed. The words didn’t go unnoticed by him.

            Harry sits up, ignoring the pain of his whole body. There will be bruises but they will be gone, and so will be Sebastian.

            “I fucking hate you, Sebastian,” Harry says and his voice doesn’t shake. Not this time.

            It’s only expected that Harry feels a blow on his cheeks seconds after the words leave his mouth. He tasted the metallic tang of blood and his lip might be ripped.

            Harry remembers what Zayn told him not even an hour earlier. _Don’t let him hurt you._

            He already did but this is where it ends.

            “You’re a fucking whore,” Sebastian spits out, standing over the bed.

            “Did you even love me? Or were all of your sweet words a lie?” Harry asks and his heart is racing. Everything that’s been keeping him afloat is falling down like an avalanche, covering him with the weight of the ruins of it, squeezing his lungs so he can’t breathe. But he has to do this because this night was a whiplash, a wakeup call that was weeks late. With each word Sebastian whispered in his ear, Harry could see it more and more.

            Sebastian’s laugh is the final nail in the coffin.

            “I loved fucking you, that I sure did. Maybe loved fucking with your head even more.”

            “We’re fucking done, Sebastian. Don’t you even fucking dare look at me again.” Harry stands up from the bed and avoids looking at Sebastian as he gets dressed. He feels disgusting but he’d rather jump out the window than stay in that room and take a shower.

            He’s buttoning up his shirt when Sebastian grabs his wrist. “You’re not leaving me.”

            _Don’t let him hurt you._

            “You can’t stop me,” Harry says and tries to jerk his hand away but Sebastian’s grip is too tight. He pulls Harry close to himself, forcing a kiss on his lips. Sebastian has a few inches on Harry in height and more strength too so no matter how hard Harry tries, the grip that is now on his waist is unescapable.

            _Don’t let him hurt you._

            All the cells in Harry’s body that are somehow sober come together and send an impulse to his brain to knee Sebastian in the balls. So he does. Sebastian gasps and doubles over, clutching his crotch. Harry’s knee automatically connects with Sebastian’s face and he hears a terrifying crack that must be the sound of Sebastian’s nose breaking. Harry breathes heavily as he looks at Sebastian whimpering on carpeted hotel room floor. He doesn’t feel any remorse as he watches blood spill through Sebastian’s fingers.

            _Don’t let him hurt you._

            “If you fucking touch me again, I’ll have you arrested. And don’t even think about trying to wait for me at school or following me somewhere.”

            Harry doesn’t even know how he puts on the rest of his clothes on but his mind starts to perceive world as it is once he’s standing in the hallway. His hands are shaking, so are his knees. He thought he’d maybe feel relieved but there’s only anxiety and fear thrumming through his veins. So many uncertainties are lying ahead of him that he just stops thinking about everything altogether and finds the stairs that will lead him to the ground floor. He slips into the employee parking lot, grateful to have his cigarettes in his suit and not coat. When the cold December air hits his face, Harry realizes there are streaks of tears staining his cheeks.

            He doesn’t think as he sits down on the steps. He ignores the pain he’s in, both physical and emotion. Ignores the drop of Sebastian’s blood on his right knee. Ignores the uncertainty of his future without Sebastian being his harbour.

            Harry doesn’t know how long he sits the but he smokes though all of his cigarettes and sits there empty handed, staring at an ugly graffitied wall when the door opens behind him. He doesn’t even bother looking.

            “Harry? Are you alright?”

            Harry’s heart clenches so hard at the sound of Zayn’s voice he thinks he’s having a heart attack. He’s never felt more grateful to hear him speak.

            “How did you find me?” Harry ask when he feels the warmth radiating off of Zayn sitting next to him on the steps.

            “I was just about to leave when Sebastian ran through the lobby with blood gushing out of his nose. Figured you’d be somewhere chain smoking.”

            Harry stays silent even when Zayn puts his coat over Harry’s shoulders, smelling of Gucci like all Zayn’s clothes do.

            “Are you okay, Haz?”

            “No,” Harry says and finally breaks down. He lets the hot tears roll down to his neck as he sobs so hard his ribs hurts. It’s so painful and he can’t even tell what hurts more. His body? The realization that Sebastian was lying the whole time? The way Sebastian used him tonight?

            Harry can’t bring himself to do anything but cry for god knows how long. He feels the dark void in his chest opening up again and he can’t have that, he just can’t. There are six longs months until graduation, six long months in Manhattan and now there’s no one to keep Harry from breaking.

            Zayn doesn’t touch him the whole time. He stays silent but his presence never disappears, his body still close to Harry’s but never quite touching. And Harry’s thankful because he doesn’t know if he would stomach touching another human being after having Sebastian’s fingers on himself, having him inside of him while he said all those things that made Harry feel like he was worse than a hooker from the worst part of New York. He was nothing to Sebastian, nothing more than a hole to fuck.

            „He hurt me so much, Zayn,” Harry chokes out when he feels like he can finally breathe though the crying. “He was _using me the whole fucking time_. He told me he loved me so many times and I believed him. I _loved_ him. He played me like a fucking violin with all of his sweet words and amazing dates. And I let him fool me. I ate it all up. I thought how…mature he was and how different it all was from dating someone my age. I can’t believe it.”

            “It’ll be okay, Harry. He’s a piece of shit and he’s gone now. You’re strong even without him.”

            “You don’t know that.”

            “I’ve known you since we were kids with braces and acne in middle school. You’ve done this before Sebastian even knew you existed. And you’re not alone either way.”

            Harry stays silent.

            “I should’ve known better. I should’ve left him sooner,” Harry says after a while. “This night didn’t have to happen.”

            “Are you hurt? Physically?” Zayn asks after a moment in an unsure voice.

            “It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, to some extent. It’s just… he fucked me tonight like I was _nothing._ He called me a slut, a whore. And he told me he loved me _minutes_ before that. God, how can someone do that?”

            “I don’t know, Haz,” Zayn says quietly. Harry shakes his head at nothing, tears still rimming his eyes.

            “But I guess he achieved what he wanted because I feel like a dirty whore now. He might as well leave me a check for the past few months since I was nothing more than that to him,” Harry chuckles self-deprecatingly.

            “Harry, stop saying that,” Zayn says fiercely. Harry refuses to look at him but he can feel Zayn’s eyes on him. “You fell in love with him and you had no idea he didn’t care about you. It’s not your fault he’s a fucking sorry excuse of a human being. You can’t let him make you feel this way. You couldn’t have known.”

            “But I should’ve,” Harry opposes. “I should’ve known because if we weren’t in his apartment fucking, we were in a restaurant. On the rare occasion we went somewhere else but he stopped taking me to plays and shows after a month. I should’ve known that he didn’t love me. I was thinking about it a bit this week and I just refused to admit that we never did things together like a normal couple. Like… binge watch shows together, talk about our lives, fuck just spend some time together for the hell of it. I did that with almost everyone I dated. But this time, he came into my life at a time when I just needed someone to love me and I was blinded by those three fucking words that had no meaning for him.”

            “Stop blaming yourself for not seeing this. Harry, love blinds you. It makes you a fool. We’ve all been through it.”

            “He could’ve raped me tonight. My own fucking boyfriend.”

            “What-“

            “Your words fucking echoed in my head. Don’t let him hurt you. So I didn’t because he hurt me enough. I didn’t let him touch me anymore and I broke his nose with my knee.”

            “Harry-“

            “Can we please leave? Not upstairs but somewhere away from this hotel. I don’t wanna go home.”

            “Where do you wanna go?”

            “I don’t know. Your place? I don’t want to be alone.”

            “Okay, yeah. C’mon. I have a car here already.”

            They walk around the hotel to the front, getting in the car without talking to some people from their school smoking outside and waiting for their rides. Zayn doesn’t touch Harry the whole time, doesn’t try to talk to him when he sees Harry looking out of the window. They silently get into Zayn’s penthouse and Zayn leads him to his own room.

            “You can stay here tonight, I’ll take the guest room. I figured you’d rather stay here and like… grab a book if you want to or whatever. And there are clean towels in the cabinet under the sink and you can take whatever you want from my closet, yeah?”

            Zayn’s standing awkwardly by the door, rubbing his hands together. Harry’s standing by the bed, realizing he can’t bear to fall asleep tonight, much less when he’s alone in the too big room.

            “Can you stay here, please?” Harry asks quietly. “I can’t be alone. Every time it’s too quiet I can hear Sebastian again.”

            Zayn nods quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

            “I’m gonna take a shower,” Harry announces, already walking to the en-suite bathroom.

            “I’ll take one in the guest bathroom, so don’t be worried when I’m not here after you come out of the shower, yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Harry nods and walks into the bathroom. He strips his clothes while looking in the mirror, inspecting the bruises Sebastian left on him. The collection doesn’t look much different from what Sebastian used to leave on Harry’s body all the time. Back then the aftermath was delicious ache and pain that reminded him of amazing sex. This time he feels like throwing up when he sees the shape of Sebastian’s fingertips on his hips. But he looks himself in the eye and he’s still himself. His eyes are the same shade of green, the same shape. They are red after crying, lined with tears but it’s all temporary. Sebastian can’t fucking break him.

            Harry showers for too long in too hot water scrubbing his body too harshly, as if he could wash off the remnants of tonight down the drain. But he can’t. So he finally gets out and wraps himself in a huge towel around his body and wraps his hair in another one. When he walks out, Zayn is already sitting on his bed in a t-shirt and sweats, typing something on his phone. He lifts his eyes up to look at Harry, thinking him searching Harry’s body for any sights of injury flies past Harry. It doesn’t and he also notices how Zayn’s face falls when he sees the bruises littering Harry’s body. Harry doesn’t comment on it as he enters Zayn’s walk-in closet and picks a pair of boxers, sweats and a sweatshirt with Minions on it.

            Zayn gives him a genuine smile when he sees what Harry’s wearing, still worried but positive enough. “Safaa gave me that one for Christmas last year. She said that it’s because I like aliens.”

            “Not the right kind of aliens I’d guess,” Harry tries to smile back but it comes out as a grimace. He sits on the bed and leans against the padded headboard.

            “Can you put on something funny?” Harry asks after a moment. “Like a sitcom or something.”

            “Is Parks & Rec good?” Zayn asks as he starts hooking his laptop to the TV. Harry just nods, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

            They watch in relative silence, only saying a word or two here and there when something interesting enough to comment happens. Harry smiles, which was the main goal of watching it, even laughs a few times. It’s pretty impossible not to laugh at Ron picking Tom up like a baby in front of Tammy #2. And that’s what Harry wants – to fill his mind with something that is so different from Sebastian, from Manhattan that he couldn’t even dream of thinking about what happened mere hours before. He’s also not alone and the sound of Zayn laughing along beside him keeps Harry hopeful that even outside of this room, where there’s no Parks & Rec to distract him or a bed to hide in, he can be okay too.

            Maybe he should’ve talked to Zayn about it or gone home, cried to his mom but he doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t want to face the aftermath of it for a few hours. Before the sun rises again and he’ll have to leave this room, Harry wants to just fucking forget. Forget Sebastian ever touched him, forget he ever loved Sebastian. It’s not denial and it’s not avoidance – it’s just time to give himself a rest, to be calm for a really short time in the middle of a hurricane. Harry will deal with all of it but first, to keep his sanity intact and mental health in a relatively good shape, he has to forget for a few hours.

            After about ten episodes, Harry can barely keep his eyes open. But he reaches his hand across the bed, grabbing Zayn’s hand in his and giving it a squeeze. Zayn looks at him curiously but Harry just smiles, such a small one that’s almost not even there.

            “Thank you, Z. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

            “You’re welcome, Haz. I’m always here for you if you need me.”

°°°°°

            When Harry wakes up the next morning, he thinks he’s dreaming. The first thing his senses catch is the fact that he’s holding someone’s hand and the next one is the fact that he must be in Zayn’s best because he can smell Gucci and remnants of smoke. He opens his eyes and sees Zayn lying next to him on his side, their hands clutching each other between them. Harry smiles at the sight and he keeps looking at him for few moments in a haze of morning happiness. Then reality kicks in.

            Harry starts to feel his body aching, the bruises on his hip pressed uncomfortably to the mattress since he’s lying on his side. The memories of Sebastian’s words hitting him as if a full building fell on top of him. ‘ _You’re my little slut.’, ‘Such a fucking whore. Wonder who else had you like this.’,_ all of them echoing through Harry’s head like the echo of a bomb going off. But then he also remembers seeing Sebastian whining in pain on the floor and the sounds get quieter, more bearable. Sebastian will never touch him again, never hurt him with his hands or words again.

            For a few more minutes, Harry keeps looking at Zayn while the recollections of last night play inside his head like a terrible horror film he’s being forced to watch. Then Harry softly says Zayn’s name and squeezes his hand because he can’t stay alone with the memories anymore.

            Zayn slowly opens his eyes, never the one for mornings. Harry tries to smile again, tries to remember the better times when they shared beds almost every night and Harry didn’t have his body cluttered with bruises that _hurt_.

            “Hey, Haz,” Zayn rasps when he finally manages to open his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

            “Wasn’t the worst sleep I ever had,” Harry replies.

            Their hands are still locked as they stare each other, their faces mostly blank.

            “I have to thank you again for yesterday,” Harry says after a while.

            “Don’t even mention it. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

            “Me too. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t found me last night. Maybe smoked until my lungs hurt, cried for hours and then took some antidepressants.”

            “Well, it’s okay to cry too.”

            Harry chuckles bitterly. “Not over him. I cried enough last night. Sebastian won’t get any more tears out of me for his fucking lies. He was a whole different person than he truly is. And I tried to be so good for him. I tried to be honest. With him, with everyone. I stopped using different… version of myself for different people all thanks to him. And it fucking turns out _he_ was the one to play me the whole time.”

            “Are you gonna do anything about him?” Zayn asks. Harry lets himself think through some options. He could press charges against Sebastian. But he hit him too. And he _should_ get a restraining order because clearly, Harry has no idea who Sebastian actually is and what he’s capable of. But he can’t. He can’t because of a fucking party that he has to go to and _fucking god._ The fucking party.

            “Zayn, you might have to help me get a fake passport, a whole false identity really because I need to get out of here to like… Russia, they never send people out of there, do they?” Harry says quickly and he sits up, his heart racing in his chest, breathing quick and heavy. Zayn sits up too and looks Harry at like he’s crazy. And maybe he is, who knows?

            “What the hell are you talking about Harry? Are you trying to flee the country because of him?”

            “No. Well. Kind of? Not forever, just for the next month or so. Until after the fucking party,” Harry babbles.

            Zayn furrows his brows and shakes his head at Harry. “What party?”

            “The celebration for the new branch of my stepdad’s firm in Japan. Sebastian’s family are invited because they invested quite a lot of money. He was supposed to be my date but it doesn’t even matter, he’s invited anyways. He’s going to be there even if someone had to bring his corpse there. And I have to be there too unless I want to end up in a grave before I even turn nineteen. Well, not if I flee the country then I won’t be there.”

            Zayn sighs and leans back on his elbow. “Harry you really scared me with this. You’re not fleeing the country and Sebastian won’t touch you. I’m going to be there too and I won’t leave your side. I can even go as your date if you want to. Just please… don’t run away, okay?”

            “Zayn, he could beat both of our asses very easily if he wanted to.”

            “I know but we’ll have security following our every move. And if he tries to even so much as talk to you, I’ll have him arrested. That’s it.”

            “This isn’t a very good plan,” Harry argues.

            “Well, it’s still better than running away to Russia when you can’t read Cyrillic nor speak Russian.”

            Harry groans. “Zayn, you’re always so fucking rational.”

            “Someone has to be,” Zayn grins. They stare at each other like morons until Zayn’s smirk disappears and is replaced by his worrying look that makes Harry both want to cry and run away.

            “Are you feeling better, Haz?”

            Harry nods. The crushing pain from last night is mostly gone as he had time to realize what Sebastian did for _months._ Anger replaced the sadness from last night but it can shift at any time but for now he couldn’t bear feel sad over Sebastian anymore. He just can’t bring himself to mourn the loss of something that wasn’t real. Everything Sebastian sad was a lie, a fucking tale that Sebastian was feeding Harry for months as if Harry was a child and this was his bedtime story. He was naïve, so fucking naïve. It hurts especially because Harry felt more mature with Sebastian, like he was over all that high school bullshit and drama. Little did he know that Sebastian’s poise, the way he talked like he’s travelled the world and read a thousand books, all of it was an act. Harry didn’t want to be the one pretending to be someone else all the time but he still did. Sebastian got a version of him that is long dead now – trusting and wide-eyed. Harry hasn’t got a clue who Sebastian really is. He knows that Sebastian isn’t the sophisticated gentleman going to Columbia Law. Maybe he’s the high school junkie that Harry got a glimpse at last night. Or perhaps he’s a heartless sociopath that would lie to someone for months only to use them for sex and play with their head. Either way, Harry doesn’t want to find out.

            “I’m sorry you didn’t get to have your night with Grace. I just realized it,” Harry says after a moment.

            “It’s fine. I was leaving anyway. Remember how I told you that I saw Sebastian in the lobby when I was just about to leave?”

            “Oh. Why weren’t you with her?”

            Zayn shrugs without any disappointment. “I didn’t want to spend the night with her.”

            Harry nods, looking down at the duvet scrunched in his hands.

            “When did you talk to Gemma?” Harry asks after a moment, lifting his eyes to look at Zayn. He avoids meeting Harry’s eyes as he plays with a ring on his left hand.

            “The day after St. Nicholas Day party. After I saw the marks on your wrist,” Zayn replies quietly. “She told me to keep an eye on you but it’s not like she had to remind me. I was worried about you ever since I saw some bruises on your wrists in chemistry class. But back then I thought it was just like… something you two were into in bed, you know? And then when you came back to school after Thanksgiving with a bruise on _you face_ , I knew something wasn’t right.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me something sooner?”

            “I felt like it wasn’t my business? Or perhaps I hoped it wasn’t what it looked like because the thought if him hurting you like that… god, I just didn’t want it to be true. He seemed to be a good person on the outside and you adored him. There weren’t any warning signs from the outside other than the bruises. But the phone call on Thanksgiving and then the bruise on Monday… it was hard to deny it then.”

            “I wish I had listened to Gemma that night.”

            “Yeah.”

            Harry looks at Zayn again and their gazes lock. Everything doesn’t sound so hopeless in the light of a new day.

°°°°°

            Sebastian tries to contact Harry two days after the incident. The text he sends Harry reads ‘ _You fucking slut I will beat you up beyond recognition the next time I see you.’_ With anxiety rising high, Harry blocks his number and pretends like he never even saw it.

            Thankfully he doesn’t try to wait for Harry at school. Harry is still paranoid that he’s gonna walk out of the building at the end of the day and see Sebastian standing at the gate, angry and ready to fight. It never happens.

            Harry doesn’t tell Lara, Chris and Peyton what really happened. Of course, there are rumours going around, one more insane than the other but Harry only says that yes, he hit Sebastian and yes, they broke up. Nothing less and nothing more. Harry shares a worried look with Zayn over their lunch when Lara starts rattling about those rumours, some of them even getting slightly close to the truth. The second Zayn caught Harry’s eye, he changed the topic like nothing ever happened.

            They do have a bit of code red that’s almost always the same for a breakup. On Friday, a week after the Winter Ball, the five of them ditches all parties and they get waffles at their favourite place for unhealthy food. Code red on a breakup usually involves some crying or at least two days in bed but this time, they all laugh and have a great time. The sadness over what Sebastian did has completely disappeared over the week and now Harry only feels anger. He is furious with Sebastian mainly because Harry’s also angry with himself for falling for his lies.

            But he tries. After his initial breakdown over it, Harry doesn’t spend any time holed up in his bed, crying and pitting himself. That’s probably what Sebastian wanted – to completely shatter him. Harry won’t let him do that. Sebastian’s presence in his life night have helped him but it’s not going to ruin him too. So when Harry feels like barricading himself in his room for a few days instead of going to school, he gets up despite every single cell in his brain screaming at him to stay and wallow in self-pity. He doesn’t stain his pillow with tears but goes to school and talks to his friends, to the people he loves and could rely on anytime. Even if he’s tired in the afternoons and evenings, wanting nothing more than to hide from all the people looking at him and whispering rumours, Harry pushes through and doesn’t say no to invitations to lunch or coffee. He smiles, genuinely and not with his Harry Edward Styles smile that is faultless and thinks about Sebastian less and less every single day.

            Looking into the mirror is hard for the first few days. Seeing the bruises on his whole body, the imprints of Sebastian’s fingers and teeth still on his, his busted lip. The feeling of disgust with himself slowly falls away. Facing the reality that he was nothing more than a toy to Sebastian is deprecating but Harry repeats to himself over and over again that it isn’t his fault. He thought he was making love to someone but Sebastian view their sex life with only slightly more regard than a night with a person he paid by the hour. He refuses to blame himself for that.

            Harry spends more time with Zayn than he’s had in years. The main reason behind it is the fact that no one else knows what actually happened the night of the Winter Ball. Harry hasn’t told him mom, hasn’t told Gemma or anyone else. Everyone gets the same trimmed version of the truth ‘ _Sebastian is an asshole and we broke up. He said some nasty shit during when the breaking up happened so I punched him.’._ Harry always tries to text or call Zayn when he feels like he’s gonna fucking lose his mind overthinking Sebastian’s lies. It feels too surreal that a person could do that, much less that Harry experienced it himself. So he and Zayn talk about it late at night, at school, in the afternoons over coffee. It’s a form of self-therapy because Harry knows he needs to come to terms with what happened, stop feeling guilty over it and he doesn’t want to do it with someone in a shiny office who has no idea who Harry actually is.

            Zayn listens to him, nods, talks some sense into him when Harry starts getting ridiculous. They plan Sebastian’s murder a few times just for fun when it all gets too depressing. Harry’s not scared to tell Zayn what he feels because there probably isn’t a single person who knows him better, maybe except for Gemma. They’re shared all of their deepest fears and dreams, been together through everything. The need for shame or fear of baring his soul just doesn’t exist. And Harry missed Zayn. He missed him so fucking much over the past almost two years and with each hour they spend together, Harry realizes it more and more. Harry finally has his best friend back, someone who he loved so much once he didn’t want to even admit until years after they were over.

            Harry doesn’t tell Gemma even over Christmas. She looks at him like she knows something’s wrong but doesn’t pressure him about it and Harry’s grateful his sister knows him even better than he knows himself.

            The celebration for the new branch of Harry’s stepdad’s firm takes place a few days after Christmas and Harry’s anxiety is shooting through the roof. When he’s getting ready, his mom constantly nags him about everything and it doesn’t help his nerves. How he shouldn’t smoke too much, how the suit he’s wearing is too gaudy, how his hair is a mess. She only ever gets like this when they’re all going to an event as a family and she knows all eyes will be on them. She has to make sure that Harry’s presentable, that he looks the part to her praises how he’s gonna take over the company one day. Harry always just smiles and lets her talk. He’s a good son after all.

            Zayn meets him in the lobby of the hotel, looking as gorgeous as always. Harry has to catch his breath but he’s gotten used to it over the years. Zayn always looks like a damn Vogue model and everyone has to just accept it.

            Harry’s anxious, scared, worried. He can’t keep checking his surroundings all the time, watching out for Sebastian. So far, he hasn’t seen him, only caught a glimpse of his parents but Sebastian. He feels safer once he greets Zayn with a slightly stiff hug and they walk together into the ballroom. Harry ignores his mom’s instructions to keep having small talk with people as they sit down at their nearly empty table. He feels restless, his knee jumping and he keeps looking around himself, his heart faster than a racing car.

            “Hey.”

            Harry feels a hand on his knee and he turns his head, looking at Zayn.

            “It’s okay be okay, Haz. Don’t worry. Try to keep calm, you’re safe, yeah?”

            “How can you know it? What if he really hurts me like that? Zayn, he’s insane,” Harry says with a shake voice.

            “He won’t hurt you. If he wants to try, he has to go through me and all the damn security guards that are here first. Do you trust me?”

            Harry takes a sharp breath and takes Zayn’s hand from his knee into his. He holds his hand a bit too tight but Zayn doesn’t complain, he keeps looking at Harry as Harry finally nods quickly. It’s like Zayn’s hand is the only thing in the world keeping him harboured, safe from floating away and breaking apart.

            “I hate feeling this… helpless,” Harry says quietly.

            “You’re not helpless,” Zayn says and gives Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Sebastian is a fucking psycho, his decisions are not your fault. You’re safe and he’ll never touch you again, okay?”

            Harry nods but he struggles to believe those words.

            During the whole night, Harry fails to spot Sebastian and he doesn’t know if he should be relieved or scared. But for Sebastian’s missing presence, his mother makes up greatly for. She approaches him when he and Zayn are talking to Lara’s parents in the hallway. The conversation mostly consists of college talk (as if parents were forbidden to talk about anything else) and how Lara’s fallen ill with the nastiest flu.

            She touches Harry’s elbow from the back and in the sweetest voice says: “Harry Styles, how good it is to finally meet you.”

            At first Harry thinks it’s a friend of his mom’s or someone but his face falls when he sees who it is.

            “Mrs. Kingsley. Pleasure,” Harry says with a tight-lipped smile.

            “Is it?” she grins venomously. “Bash wouldn’t say it was a pleasure when he had to have a surgery after you broke his nose, sweetheart.”

            Harry blinks at her a few times. “Excuse me?”

            “That’s right. You thought that you hurting him had no consequences? He couldn’t even attend this event tonight because of it.”

            Harry lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as anger thrums through his veins. “And I’m supposed to care about any of that?”

            Mrs. Kingsley chuckles bitterly. “You’re lucky he’s not pressing charges. I wanted him to but I couldn’t change his mind.”

            Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Do you know why he didn’t want to?”

            She just stares at him, everything about her poise saying “Humour me.”

            “It’s because by the end of it all, he’d end up in jail and on the list of sex offenders,” Harry says mercilessly. There’s an audible gasp from Lara’s mom and Mrs. Kingsley. He feels Zayn puts his hand on the small of Harry’s back, whispering something about not letting her rile him up but Harry doesn’t care. If she wants to do this, she should know the fucking truth.

            “How dare you say that about my son!” she exclaims. “How dare you lie like that? He was right about you being nothing more than a dirty whore who will open his legs for anyone! You’ve just put an end to your relationship with Bash and here you are, promenading with another man! You’ve found yourself a new boyfriend quite quickly, didn’t you?”

            “So what if I did!” Harry shouts. “Your son is the most disgusting person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. When he told you what a whore I am, did he also tell you that he abused me? That he would’ve probably raped me if I hadn’t broken his nose? That he lied to me for months? Don’t try to come for me when you have no idea what things your son does, Mrs. Kingsley.”

            With that, Harry turns around, grabbing Zayn’s hand and he leaves her standing there, her mouth gaping open. Lara’s parents unfortunately had to see the whole exchange and he can expect Lara’s mom to run to his mom right away and recount the whole thing. Harry has half the mind to grab his coat from the coat room before he stalks into the cold December night.

            He’s never been as angry as he is now. God knows what else has Sebastian been spewing about him. The fucking audacity of Mrs. Kingsley to come up to Harry and tell him those things in fucking public. The Whittmores were standing right there and many people around them must’ve heard as well. God, his mom is going to literally murder him.

            Harry stops walking a few feet away from the hotel entrance, breathing hard and on the verge of crying. As soon as Zayn is close, now dressed in his coat as well Harry literally collapses on him, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck and hiding his face in Zayn’s shoulder. He starts sobbing, finally letting the angry and sorrowful tears out. And because Zayn knows him better than anyone else, he just strokes Harry’s back and stays silent.

            “I fucked up,” Harry mumbles after a while, his words even more muffled since he says them into the material of Zayn’s coat.

            “No, you didn’t,” Zayn says, pushing Harry away from him and gently grabbing the left side of Harry’s face. “She’s just as terrible as her son and you didn’t have to listen to her bullshit. You did the right thing.”

            “Zayn, my mom is going to kill me,” Harry grumbles.

            “She isn’t. C’mon, we’ll talk somewhere else.”

            Harry grabs Zayn’s hand again after they start walking towards the Central Park that is just across the street, doing something he avoided so much back when their kisses came as easy as breathing.

            “I can’t believe you still haven’t told me to fuck off,” Harry says as sit on a bench. They’re surely going to get wet from the snow that always finds their way onto people in Central Park.

            “Why would I tell you to fuck off?” Zayn asks. Harry doesn’t reply for a while, looks at both pairs of their hands clutches together between them, mainly because they don’t have gloves but Harry knows his hands would’ve been shaking otherwise. He has to tether himself somehow if they’re going to talk about _important_ things.

            “Because… I can’t leave you alone. You must be annoyed with me by now. Why should you listen to me when I should just get a damn therapist already?”

            “Haz, you’re my best friend. I could never push you away. Especially not when you need someone.”

            Harry’s heart breaks a little at those words. He can’t help himself but remember how many times he said ‘ _you’re my best friend’_ to Zayn, ironically while he was in love with him.

            “I don’t think I could’ve done this alone. Like… I’m far from alright but I manage. I don’t hide in my bed, I go to school every day, even out after school. It’s so fucking hard but some days I get up only because I know I’ll see you at school and you won’t judge me if I still feel like shit over what happened.”

            “You would’ve done it, Harry,” Zayn says confidently. “But it fucking sucks going through something like that alone. I’m glad that you trust me because I can only imagine how hard trusting _anyone_ after Sebastian must be.”

            “I’ve known you for more than a half of my life,” Harry nearly whispers. “You know me better than anyone and I know you too. If I couldn’t trust you then who?”

            Zayn stays silent but there’s never complete silence in Manhattan. The sounds of cars, the wailing of ambulances and police cars, drunken shouting. All of that is somewhere around them but all Harry hears is the rush of his blood in his ears and the dull beating of his heart echoing through his body.

            “You know,” Harry says when the silence gets too unbearable and his heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I’ve always looked down on people of our… status if you will, who had depression and like mental health issues in general. Because look at us, our lives are so fucking easy and so fucking privileged. We have everything we want. And yet, there are people who are popping antidepressants like fucking tit-tacs. I didn’t understand until I was in that situation myself. And you know, I’ve always had my own antidepressants. Friends, music, different hobbies that I went through as fast as socks. Sebastian was my newest one. But I realized that I can’t rely on other people and things to make me happy. Over the past two weeks I’ve struggled with every single thing that I could. One good thing that came out of it is that I finally dealt with… all this fucking mess.

            “I was scared to leave Sebastian because I didn’t think I could be happy without him, didn’t think I could be honest with other people. But I can and I saw so many proofs of it. They were right in front of me the whole time but I was blinded. I don’t need him to make me happy because I have so many other people. I have Gemma, Lara, Chris, Peyton. My family when they’re not too lost in this fucking maze that is our very wide circle of acquaintances. I have you. We’re human and we need like… _something_ to make that fucking serotonin in our brains. And I’m fucking blessed to have people in my life that care about me and I can be myself around them.

            So I realized a few things. The first one is that I can be happy without Sebastian and the many versions of him that I’ve dated. The second one is that I would never fucking give my friends and my family up, not for anything in the world because those are the people that matter the most in one’s life. And the third one is that I love you.”

            The silence after it is defeating but Zayn doesn’t let go of Harry’s hands so the flutter of Harry’s heart doesn’t rise. He’s still scared, not in the way he was of Sebastian tonight but in a way that he could’ve just ruined everything and Zayn will hate him forever.

            “Harry, if you’re saying that now just because you’re confused or… I don’t know, you think you love me because of the past two weeks, then I’m going to pretend you just didn’t say anything.”

            Harry looks up at Zayn to find him staring at their interlocked hands.

            “Zayn, can you please look at me?” Harry says faintly. He does look up and Harry tries to smile, at least a little bit but he’s shivering from the cold and the anticipation of finding out whether or not he’s going to ruin their friendship in a few seconds.

            “Ever since I first kissed you in our freshman year, weeks after the thought popped into my head, I think I started falling in love since that second,” Harry says. “I already loved you as a friend, like I love the rest of our best friends. But you had me from the moment we smoked at my roof a few weeks after we first slept together and you said I looked like an angel against the polluted New York sky. I know we were high and it was cheesy but, in that moment, I felt like I could grow wings that would rip my fucking tailored suit and I’d fly away to the moon.

            “I think I never stopped loving you because I was so fucked for you before I ruined us that I don’t think it was even possible. Sure, I loved Sebastian but it came from the crush that he took advantage off. You, on the other hand, you mean everything to me. It’s like… you’re my rock, yeah? And I used to be yours to so please, let me be always there for you again like you are to me. Because I do love you and not only because you probably saved my life in the past two weeks. There’s much more than that. We have years, not just these two weeks.”

            “I don’t know what to say, Haz,” Zayn says and his eyes are so honest, so open. Harry fucking gets lost in them and his heart literally hurts with how much he loves him. He was so blind. He was so fucking blind that a blind rat could see the things Harry overlooked.

            “Just… do you love me too?” Harry asks with anxious voice.

            “Yeah, I do,” Zayn says like it’s the easiest fucking thing in the world. Easier than taking a breath, than blinking. Harry feels relief wash over him.

            “I have a few more things to say, so please, bear with me for a little while longer and then you can talk all night and I’ll listen to every single word you say,” Harry says quickly. “I can’t give you a proper relationship. I just… I can’t have sex with you after what happened. I love you and I trust you more than anyone in the world but I just can’t. And if you don’t want me until I get over all of it I understand and I won’t hold it against you because you deserve someone who will give you everything.”

            Zayn scoffs, taking one of his hands out of the mess of their hands and places it on Harry’s cheek. He smiles at Harry softly, caressing his cheekbone.

            “Haz, if you think that I care about any of that you clearly don’t know me,” he says. “We don’t even to date. We don’t have to do anything until you’re comfortable sharing that part of yourself again. Or if you decide to never sleep with anyone again, I don’t care because your sexuality or whatever isn’t what makes you you. I didn’t fall in love with you all that time ago because we were sleeping together. It was because of our conversations, the time we spent together doing things and who you are as a person because Haz, you have one of the most brilliant souls I’ve ever encountered.”

            Harry feels a single tear roll down the cheek that Zayn isn’t holding and he smiles. “I’m sorry I told that hag you were my boyfriend. I just realized it when you mention dating.”

            “It’s okay. If you want we can pretend to date to keep it up.”

            “How about we do it for real?” Harry asks carefully.

            Zayn grins at him and presses a warm kiss to Harry’s cheek. “If you really want to you know that my answer is always yes.”

            “I think I realized I still loved you after the kiss a few weeks ago,” Harry confesses.

            “I guess I did too,” Zayn says softly.

            And Harry can’t bear it then and he has to lean forward to capture Zayn’s lips in a gentle kiss, so fleeting their cold lips barely touch. It’s very hesitant at first as Harry’s heart is racing and his anxiety is trying to stop him but he _wants_ to do this. So he kisses Zayn properly, their lips moving in sync and their tongues meddling together because this isn’t Sebastian. He’s kissing Zayn, with his soft lips and gentle hands. Zayn, who he’s loved for years and made the biggest mistake by leaving him. Harry loves him so much he could shout it from the top of Empire State Building and any skyscraper in the world.

            Harry may be still broken, gluing himself back together piece by piece but the shard of his heart that has loved Zayn ever since they were barely sixteen is unscathed. Zayn has been his rock, his harbour ever since before Harry knew he needed one and tried to find it with the wrong person. Their relationship has always been one based on mutual trust and friendship, even when the sex came it was just the cherry on top and not the cake. It took a few years too long for Harry to realize he was actually in love with Zayn but he got there, didn’t he? There were a few bumps in the road, perhaps a car wreck or two as well, but this is it – this is the finish line.

            But it doesn’t end here. They’re still so young with their whole lives ahead of them and Harry wants nothing more than to keep getting older with Zayn by his side. They went from kids with braces and acne to teenagers willing to try anything to (very) young men who fell in love with each other and are hopefully the wisest they’ve ever been so far. Harry hopes they will become actual adults together. He hopes they’ll make it. He had doubts when they were freshmen eating fries and kissing at 2AM in Brooklyn but Harry’s more hopeful now. It doesn’t matter that they’re young or that they haven’t had the chance to maybe explore more. When something is as good as what they have, you hold on and you never let go. Harry knows it now, he just wishes he knew it when he was sixteen too.

°°°°°

            Harry wakes up when sunlight starts to try and burn out his eyes. His eyelids are heavy as he opens them but a smile creeps on his face when he sees the clear sky tinged with orange outside of the window. It’s been raining for a few days already and seeing a clear sky first thing in the morning isn’t the worst way to start the day.

            There’s Zayn’s arm around his waist, a staple for almost three years. Harry smiles even wider and grabs Zayn’s hand from his stomach, kissing his knuckles and then lightly biting them to wake Zayn up. It works as well as it always does because Zayn stirs in his sleep and less than two minutes later Harry feels his lips on his shoulders.

            “Morning, baby,” Harry says before he twists so he can face Zayn. “It finally fucking stopped raining.”

            Zayn gives him a close-lipped smile, his eyes barely open. “I don’t even wanna know how early it is, babe. But good morning.”

            “Early enough for us to fuck before class,” Harry grins and kisses Zayn’s jaw. He hums and pulls Harry closer to himself, their naked bodies now almost completely touching.

            “I can’t believe that habit stayed with you since high school,” Zayn mumbles, his fingers gently scratching Harry’s scalp.

            “All the perks of being with me,” Harry says into Zayn’s neck and bites the skin he was just kissing. He continues marking up Zayn’s neck for a few minutes, his morning wood getting to a full hard on just from it.

            “Fuck me,” Harry nearly moans and starts kissing Zayn’s jaw again.

            “’m tired. Wasn’t last night enough? We’re getting old, Haz, think about my poor joints.”

            “Nope and stop acting like you’re seventy with arthritis, you’re twenty-one. You can drink in our homeland legally for barely five months.”

            “Haz, it’s like five thirty in the morning. Let’s sleep.”

            “How about I fuck you?” Harry asks hopefully and starts kissing down Zayn’s chest.

            “Honestly? Even worse. Baby, I love you so fucking much but let’s sleep.”

            Harry sits up with a huff. “Fine. But I’m sucking you off in the shower later.”

            He lays his head on Zayn’s chest, Zayn immediately putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry lays there, listening to the subdued beat of Zayn’s heart under his ear and the fucking bird chirping outside like it’s a Disney movie. He can’t fall asleep again and he has a suspicion that Zayn is awake as well.

            “Babe?” Harry asks.

            “Yeah?” Zayn replies and bingo. Harry was right.

            “I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. And how happy I am that we have this beautiful life together. I’m so lucky to have you.”

            Zayn kisses the top of Harry’s head. “I love you too. What made you think about that?”

            “I don’t know. I guess I just looked out of the window this morning and I felt happy. And it’s so good to just… wake up and have you here with me. Know that we still love each other and to know how lucky we are to have this life.”

            Harry sometimes thinks about everything that changed during the early mornings when he watches the Paris sky out of their bedroom window while he lies in bed with sleeping Zayn draped over his back. They’re so lucky. They’re so fucking lucky to have each other.

            After that terrible incident with Sebastian when Harry was eighteen, he thought he’d never recover. But he quickly realized that he still loved Zayn and because he learned not to keep all of his emotions bottled up, Harry told him almost right away. Ever since that day, they told each other ‘ _I love you’_ every single day. It was hard at first because Harry had to put himself back together but they withstood it and so did their relationship. They navigated the difficult water of Manhattan until June and then fucked off to Europe together.

            Since they’re still their parents’ children, they had exactly three college choices: Oxford, Cambridge or Sorbonne. After realizing that neither of them wanted to live in a small university town, they chose Sorbonne. And because they would very much like to keep their inheritance, they had only one choice of their degrees: business. Harry struggled a bit with French during his first year but it was still the superior choice to staying in the US or living in the UK. They’re nearing the end of their second year and math in French no longer makes Harry’s skin crawl.

            Harry had feared that Zayn would leave him once they moved in together and were around each other almost 24/7 but he didn’t. He stayed with him through all of it, helped him with French just like he did help mending Harry’s broken heart together just months before.

            Harry’s love for Zayn probably grows every single day. It was skyrocketing while they were still seniors at St. Augustine’s and now it’s steadily rising at a calm pace. He feels like his chest is gonna burst with all the love sometimes, mostly when they make love because it was a touchy subject for a long time. They didn’t have sex for seven months after started officially dating in a snowy Central Park and Harry still feels like crying when he remembers that Zayn hasn’t _once_ asked him about sex during that time. He’s more than comfortable with sex now because he trusts Zayn more than anyone in the world and he also knows that Sebastian didn’t have the right to hurt him and take something that’s an integral part of a relationship away from him.

            They’re twenty-one now, even more in love than they were at eighteen and Harry _knows_ they have more and more years ahead of them. Because their relationship isn’t a chore. They don’t need to have artificial dates and constantly find out new things about each other. No, their relationship is easier than breathing. It comes naturally and Harry can’t imagine his life without Zayn now. They just exist together as friends, lovers, humans and not just boyfriends. There’s so much love and ease they could swim in it every day if they wanted to. Things like this are meant to be held on to, they’re meant to be forever. And Harry has thought about it, getting married on a whim but it would just make their parents angry and they don’t need a paper to validate their love.

            “I’m so fucking lucky to have you, Haz.”

            “I’m even luckier to have you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

            “Oh, am I?”

            Harry kisses the skin on Zayn’s chest that’s the closest to his lips. “Of course, you are.”

            “Well, if you don’t already know, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me too. I love you more than anything, Haz.”

            “I love you more than anything, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, I really appreciate it. <3 Every single kudo and comment warms my heart and it's the best feeling that someone liked whatever I somehow managed to put together lol.


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